This is a song about "Snack back in your backpack"

I can't hold back, it's time to attack jack

Haters on my track, guns in the backpack

Lot of intuition, i ain't never finished college

Go back in time and kill you with your umbilical cord, bitch

In fact i snack on my prey, half of the game is still back in shacks,

Niggas talkin' greasy, i'm the one that gave them they chance

My jordans high-top, snapback fitted cap

The young white boy with weed in his backpack

Woof, bitch, top doglay yo girl face on my lap, let her play with my sack

I eat you like a afternoon snack, and i pour in the side glass some jack/

Like bobby had whitney we was cooking up crack

How you gonna look in your son's face and turn your back

Why don't you put your laundry baskets in the back

Imma need to know now can a brotha crack