| Backseat, riding with the tray right by me
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| That’ll turn that nigga to a ghost
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| Ain’t no love in my city, straight drugs in my city
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| Niggas walk around this shit, no hope
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| Gotta keep the gang here with me, and tha thang hold fifty
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| Niggas run up, they don’t want no smoke
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| Nigga had the cash out, silly, bought the bag out with me
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| Nigga tryna stack, show you how it go
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| Follow my eyes, shit gon' be right on the prize
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| Repping the set with the gods
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| Split up them pods
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| Run up the check to get high
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| Fuck it, my nigga, we grind
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| Out of my mind, most of these niggas is lying
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| All of my shit a design
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| Look at me shine, nigga might hit a few lines
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| Then I might bang on your dime
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| Do it, I hope
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| You do me, Peter Pan, four in my liter, man
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| Repping the coast
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| All of my hitters bang, run up and get your man
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| Word to my bros
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| Flexing on Instagram, made over insta-fame
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| Blowing my dope
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| Punching up instant bands, blue face, they crippin', gang
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| Taking those shorts
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| Jedi, I came with the force
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| Roll up and spark up the torch
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| Enter the corpse, pour out some liquor for cuz
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| This for the niggas we lost
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| Don’t trap on the corner, killers is in the town
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| Nigga not duckin' rounds
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| Fuck with the growers, hit me, I need your loud
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| Shipping, you get your pounds
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| I got the packs if you got the racks
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| Twist up a zip of the meds to relax
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| Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
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| Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
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| I got the dough, who got the dro'?
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| Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
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| Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
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| Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go
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| I got the packs if you got the racks
|
| Twist up a a zip of the meds to relax
|
| Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
|
| Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
|
| I got the dough, who got the dro'?
|
| Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
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| Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
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| Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go
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| Call me the pack-tivist, smoke hella weed
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| Travel all through the atlas and planting my seeds
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| Grew to a money tree, as it should be
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| Got some young niggas gunning while on LSD
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| Play with my hundreds, turn
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| One eye open like Horus, you thought I was sleep
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| Pull up, now you retreat
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| Make you bow to the feet
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| I ain’t rocking designer, red bottom my sneaker
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| Don’t get your people annihilated
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| Psilocybin— my pupils be dilated
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| I reside in the group with the finest ladies
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| Free my mind now I move with no limitations
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| We just demonstrating, dollars circulate
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| Blowing recreation, pussy penetrate
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| Ain’t no fucking trophies when you in the grave
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| Throw your girl emoji, she just give me face
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| Never gave me faith, had to push it in place
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| Manifested my future on daily basis
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| Gettin' stoned like Medusa while getting paper
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| Cop a P, then we move it, don’t tell the neighbors
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| Only blow OG, that potent flavor
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| Nigga, roll me a dollie and then I face it
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| Wrap that shit tight so they cannot trace it
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| Fed Ex sent me a text that the package made it
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| I got the packs if you got the racks
|
| Twist up a zip of the meds to relax
|
| Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
|
| Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
|
| I got the dough, who got the dro'?
|
| Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
|
| Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
|
| Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go
|
| I got the packs if you got the racks
|
| Twist up a a zip of the meds to relax
|
| Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
|
| Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
|
| I got the dough, who got the dro'?
|
| Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
|
| Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
|
| Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Packs , by - The Underachievers. Song from the album Lords of Flatbush 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп