This is a song about "Fanny packs"

Like the kind you find on cigarette packs

Check my bank account, got racks on racks

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

I keep my friends close, enemies closer, fuck both, i dont trust no one

Better yet a genie baby make ya first wish

And my man hatchet packs a shed full of axes

As far as these bars, my flow life sentence

I pack more soul than chicago packs guns,

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

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

Not a whack job that packs crack rocks in the streets

To me playing in the game is worth more than the seats

Leave it to the greats, this comeback elevates me to the level of bill gates/

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