This is a song about "6 packs"

Go to hell, i mean that, burn you like green backs

Ra ta tat tat sending shots at these rappers back packs

Double mg not to mention

Suicide depression,

Shout out them strippers who hustle

And inhospitable,

Marginal revenue

I'm coming home with you

I pack more soul than chicago packs guns,

Hold it..now thank you for silence

I know what it takes

Archaic accolades

Right through his face, pastes his brains all on the packs

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks