Packin - King Iso, A-Wax

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