This is a song about "Fanny packs"

Sorry mr. charlie won't chap dance

Like the kind you find on cigarette packs

And even when you crabby, obey all seasons

I pack more soul than chicago packs guns,

Then understand that i'm the one, that packs a punch much like a gun.

And he tryna make it front row to the show to throw me one

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

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

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

Ra ta tat tat sending shots at these rappers back packs

That you can't fit inside a jansport, go to school with this

And my man hatchet packs a shed full of axes

You oughta see this, my modded sneaker is often three much

Packing pleasant feelings cause my sandwich packs a punch

For repair i've mastered the airways spitting faster then sound waves

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