This is a song about "Your six pack ain t shit"

You dug your own grave your six feet under

I bet i get the fall rosay had this summer

Goin crazy, i might be no sleep having light dreams

Rap attack your pack a rats coming in like swat teams,

And maybe one day his kids, something that he'll live for

Six pack, of beer is in my refrigerator.

It ain't nothing to me, i’m who they coming to see

Holes all in ya t-shit, call that holy moly

Y’all niggas don’t worry me at least a bit

*aight now its time for t smallz to hop on dis shit*

Hold up now don’t get it twisted, i ain't hating, do your thing

Your all talk and no pack rapping action or word forming.

My rhymes got a mighty six pack

Snapple fact: you rather wack