This is a song about "Packing heat"

Wasting talent, packing to go tracking.

I was born to do the damn thing

Stack up your funds like a million bucks

Packing blunts, sipping lean in sty cups

Even when y'all deep, y'all still all sweet

Az is my home and love the heat

Fulfilling voids of broke d-boys sellin' weed

Murder verses bursts of furnace heat

Took her to the club bought her three more bottles

Packing blunts, sipping lean in sty cups

Fuck all the faculty, tobacco-packing acrobat

Thats the end of my speech, i'm a need you to clap

And you know i got the heat.

Swear i will murk any beat