Lyrics Packin - King Iso, A-Wax

Packin

Hold up, you can’t tell me no, but tell your friends to do the opposite
Don’t tell nobody, but I snuck a pole on board a private jet
Every loaf I see, I think «Why ain’t you in my pockets yet?»
Cemetery full of people, ain’t respect the politics
I just wanna put it in her mouth, this bitch too talkative
Them killers, I’ma put 'em on your house until you pop up there
Sometimes I be thinking this twelve burping when my diamonds glare
Found a homie commissary, out
Cheesy rice and ramen for a month or two
I got some opps in jail, better gt off if you running to 'em
Big 'ol stack of blues, I ain’t count 'em, I’m just thumbing through 'm
Shit was between us until that drug I sent a bone or two
on that syrup and exotic
If you so supportive of your homies, why you knock 'em then?
If it’s really up, what’s your location on it then?
Drop a pin
Bitch I’m popping ops, not no Xanays or
Drip, check, blick, check
That bitch, check, I’m getting checks
Drip, check, Blick, check
That bitch, check, I’m getting checks
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check check, I run up a
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check, check
You can’t tell me no bitch, your best friend would do the opposite
Mask up like a non-obmissive, you don’t respect politics
I got two hoes kissing, one on top, other my bottom bitch
My young boys will turn a nigga block into the Gaza strip
My guys just walked in the strip club and I bought a bitch
Swear to God, my drip get big way more than a bottom lip
Bit fagged off, told her «Hold this L» and gave her a hockey stick
Now back to this Filet Mignon and lobster bisk
Nigga thought he cool with everyone, I told 'em «Box the blick»
Pull up game like abs or a porn site how I pop up quick
Been a shooter since running with a page
Running with that Mac since Macintosh took a floppy disk
That hoe wanna fuck me while she talking shit, aye, aye
Told her «Use the throat and use a lot of spit», aye, aye
All that fake quarterbacking got him blitzed, aye, aye
This ain’t football, pack 'em out with soccer kicks
Drip, check, blick, check
That bitch, check, I’m getting checks
Drip, check, Blick, check
That bitch, check, I’m getting checks
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check check, I run up a
Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, check
Check, check, check, check, check, check