This is a song about "Fanny packs"

Frozen, i'm going insane / cloaked like a ghost but i've broken my chains

Acting as packs of chimpanzees, a yack of bleats they ape and pack with bleeps in tapes

This is more about nothing, i'm the fucking show

Six packs, or make a sick track, wallow in sadness, sorrow,

Lift 'em up and down like eight hundred thousand pound packs

But i don’t knock you i just blame it on your old head, rats

Not a whack job that packs crack rocks in the streets

Mini fourteen stuffed in my denim jeans

87, brick fare, yeah, i’m talking thirty racks

Like the kind you find on cigarette packs

And god blessed me with a lot of patience

I pack more soul than chicago packs guns,

Ra ta tat tat sending shots at these rappers back packs

She said look ma, no hands and no darling i don't dance