This is a song about "Packing starps guns"

You packing pistols? well bitch i’m packing iraqi missiles,

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks

With no guns and no shields

Cuz you gon' chase cheese

Artillery weak with guns

3m's on my new balance

Fuck all the faculty, tobacco-packing acrobat

A good head on her shoulders, i need to feel that

Or closed casket for our troubles

Packing blunts, sipping lean in sty cups