This is a song about "Packing heat"

Fuck all the faculty, tobacco-packing acrobat

Half these niggas working now, they knocked it down, they're going back

Ima blow like i'm mothafuckin' sniffing lines

Stop pretending that yous packing nines

Me and my peeps often meet

Az is my home and love the heat

Yeah i know we never got to meet

And you know i got the heat.

I'm a king.you should kiss my pinky ring

Wasting talent, packing to go tracking.

Niggas runnin round carrying heat

And we stumpinbut can't catch the beat

Or closed casket for our troubles

Packing blunts, sipping lean in sty cups