This is a song about "Packs"

And my man hatchet packs a shed full of axes

I'm high as fuck and i didn't call for all this

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

Ali shaheed muhammad q-tip i'm trynna follow

Not a whack job that packs crack rocks in the streets

Goin crazy, i might be no sleep having light dreams

Right through his face, pastes his brains all on the packs

Cause i show fur, no bikini wax

Packing pleasant feelings cause my sandwich packs a punch

You just don't like what i'm doing, the lyrics twitter my image

Or all them hot summers i was cooped up in the kitchen

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

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

The tracks on snack off raps, see stacks from back of my slacks