This is a song about "Ice packs"

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

Your death's miscella-neous, say hi to mister hades man, these little games

This just ain't no song shit, do this for my city joe

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

Don’t even gotta break the ice

And when i start to rise

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

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

Not a whack job that packs crack rocks in the streets

Your bitch kind of ugly but she sure fill up them jeans

Play the game nigga

Ice cream or vanilla,

Im ice cool, you just ice cold!

Plenty smoke, plenty rolled

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

Slang from dust to dawn, detectives act like they maniacs