The Underachievers – Packs

[Verse 1: Issa Gold]
Backseat, riding with the trays, rock bottom
That’ll turn that nigga to a ghost
Ain’t no love in my city, straight drugs in my city
Niggas walk around this shit, no hope
Gotta keep the gang here with me, anything hold fifty
Niggas wanna bang, want no smoke
Nigga had the cash out, silly, bought the bag out with me
Nigga tryna stack, show you how it go
Follow my eyes, shit gon’ be right on the prize
Repping the set with the gods
Split up them pods
Run up the check to get high
Fuck it, my nigga, we crying
Out of my mind, most of these niggas is lying
All of my shit a design
Look at me shine, nigga might hit a few lines
Then I might bang on your dime
Do it, I hope
You do me, Peter Pan, four in my liter, man
Repping the coast
All of my hitters bang, run up and get your man
Word to my bros
Flexing on Instagram, made over insta-fame
Blowing my dope
Punching up instant bands, move like the Crip in gangs
Taking those shorts
Jedi, I came with the force
Roll up and spark up the torch
Enter the corpse, pouring some liquor for cous’
This for the niggas we lost
Don’t trap on the corner, killers is in the town
Nigga not ducking ’round
Fuck with the growers, hit me, I need your loud
Shipping, you get your pounds

[Hook: Issa Gold, AK The Savior]
I got the packs if you got the racks
Twist up a zipper, then mental relax
Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
I got the dough, who got the dro’?
Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go
I got the packs if you got the racks
Twist up a zipper, then mental relax
Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
I got the dough, who got the dro’?
Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go

[Verse 2: AK The Savior]
Call me the pack-tifist, smoke hella weed
Travel all through the atlas and planting my seeds
Grew to a money tree, as it should be
Got some young niggas gunning while on LSD
They want my hundreds, start hitting the bitch
When I open like auras, she thought I was cute
Hold up, now you retreat
Make you bow to the feet
I ain’t rocking designer, red bottom my speaker
Don’t get your people annihilated
Sip the sap and my pupils be dilated
I reside in the group with the finest ladies
Free my mind now I move with no limitations
We just demonstrating, dollars circulate
Blowing recreation, pussy penetrate
Ain’t no fucking trophies when you in the grave
Throw your girl emoji, she just give me face
Never gave me faith, had to push it in place
Manifested my future on daily basis
Getting stoned like Medusa, ’bout getting paper
Cop a P, then we move it, don’t tell the neighbors
Only blow OG, that potent flavor
Nigga, roll me a dollie and then I face it
Wrap that shit tight so they cannot trace it
Fed Ex sent me a text that the package made it

[Hook: Issa Gold, AK The Savior]
I got the packs if you got the racks
Twist up a zipper, then mental relax
Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
I got the dough, who got the dro’?
Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go
I got the packs if you got the racks
Twist up a zipper, then mental relax
Stashing the gas when I fly through the map
Got it on me, nigga, know it’s a fact
I got the dough, who got the dro’?
Hop on the flight, get the pack, hit the road
Roll up a spliff to the face and reload
Gotta stay lit everywhere that we go


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