Lyrics Berner – Packs

Chorus:
A hundred fifty packs, see I’m really on
Yeah, I’m really on
If we get it there in the morning, then I’m really on

One fifty, six hundred, no fifties, one hundred
I’ve been going crazy with the pack
All summer watching king pins go under
From talking on the wrong number.
This shit is coke, no heater in the house
My hands warm form cooking coke
Ex by the bone,
My finger tips burn from the roach
First class I don’t fly coach I roll up and smoke
…Graveyard shift yeah, it’s late when they come out
One fifty, I’m a push till I run out
I was out in Indiana before I hit Atlanta
Had it popping out in Houston, Detroit
And Tampa, make them taste a hammer
I pray my shit don’t jam up
I brought a hundred K on the plane
And when I landed, all I heard is come here,
And put your hands up!
A bunch of fucking questions I won’t answer
I’m really on!

Chorus:

Three hundred, one milli
All hundreds, no fifties
I’ve been on the rode with the pack
No shipping, I’m a double up on each one
And Yout City, North Philly, NY
I’m chopping game and cutting coke up in the shine
Travelodge I sat her down,
I put her picture up and told her «hold me down!»
She’s turning tricks, I’m burning spliffs
I’m blowing Kush, and purple piss
I’m pushing Chris and black…
Somebody lie them, I’m a mother fucker rap star!
Bitch, I’m a turn up, I do one hundred twenty
I told her money makes my dick hard, so get it for me!
In a trap, floor covered with stacks
The smell of fresh Kush, while I bust, open the pack!

Chorus:
A hundred fifty packs, see I’m really on
Yeah, I’m really on
If we get it there in the morning, then I’m really on
Yeah, I’m really on
A hundred fifty packs, see I’m really on
Yeah, I’m really on
If I get this money back home, yeah, I’m really on
Yeah, I’m really on