Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pack It Up, artist - King Just.
Date of issue: 23.02.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pack It Up |
Pack it up, pack it in, word up* |
To all my world WP, NYC |
If you think you got wins over there |
(L.G., if you ain’t Dub-P) |
King Just on the M.I.C. |
{pack it up, pack it up |
Pack it up, pack it up, pack it up, pack it up} |
Yo I beat 'em up, whoever front, beat 'em up |
Wanna battle, eat 'em up |
I know chicks, who bump a little, skeet it up |
Like to fuck, mics I clutch, no white owl, I hit a dutch |
Don’t ever try fighting us, that stuck up, might of been us |
Running from the popo, no, Germans is loco |
What you don’t know, my Wolf Pack, about to blow |
From the dirty south from the big city, S.I.N.Y. |
I like broads with big titties, big thighs, wide hip size |
Ya’ll wanna know what’s up with me? |
No rapper can fuck with me, living comfortably |
Ya’ll slum to me, never hung with me |
Whether done with me, ya’ll W.P. |
My Killah Hill vets, want respect, snatchin’ya rep |
First place, we check ya hip, where the ratchet is kept |
Yo my shit crystal clear like from DAT to cassette |
I take half my money first, ya’ll spend half of the rest |
My name Profes, confess, yeah I bang like gang members |
Bust guns, sold drugs, all in the same winter |
Step in the club, get stalked by gangs when we enter |
Chicks call me L.G., give me brains before I pimp her |
I stay with the getcha, now look I got to you |
A thug full of liquor, you 2Pac imposter |
Who You Records, nigga, better check the roster |
Two 4 Warriors, Two Six mobsters |
Red light, green light, 1, 2, 3 |
AKA Chokemon, ya’ll ain’t gotta smoke with me |
Reppin’NYC, til I D.I.E. |
When I touch the M.I.C., spread like H.I.V. |
Try me in the dark alley in Cali |
With a 'fuck the Grand Wizard’shirt, had it on Klan Rally |
But Sally from the valley, but she said I seeded it |
Nuff bitches in this party that I done skeeted in |
Feeding in, my adrenaline, Wimbledon, champion |
Forty nine, throw it back like Park Hill from Stapleton |
Hits now I’m making 'em, D.R. |
lacin''em |
Period, ain’t nothing else I should say to 'em |
52 stating 'em, Tunnel, Speed, Stadium |
Mad is the script, before they closed the Palladium |
I was them, got you fantasize about, that you wrote your rhymes about |
But you couldn’t turn the jam out, no doubt |
All out is how we go, H20 is how we flow |
Look at 'em now, you ain’t got to ask if I’mma blow |
Or po’like vest, never ever smoke stress |
Maybe cuz I’m J-U-S, I got J-U Ice, cuz I’m just too nice |
Any hands’ll give you plenty, mami, from, all night |
Keep that pussy tight, right, pa won’t fight, right |
I’mma shine, playa shine, why you blabbin’bout my life |
Fuck the mic in The Source, we gon’fight, just for yours |
Trouble make, like porns, Warriors love war |
You gon’see me, on tour, everybody on the bus |
It’s K.J., not Spike Lee, but still a million of us |