TO CRASH OUT A MOCKINGBIRD lyrics

[Chorus]
b*tch don't f*ck with the Pack Man, ay
All black beamer like he's Batman, ay
b*tch he ran it up, he the Rack Man, ay
When they on the block do the tap dance, hey

[Verse 1]
Never sweat in my armpits
I'm on Sixth Street, all black posted up with all my f*cking sticks
My lil' shooter got Tourette's, he take care of all the ticks
Don't help Granny cross the road, we goin' rob that f*cking lick
Ha, please help me
Nah, put that b*tch in overdrive
No talking if you cash deprived
I'm banging till I'm ninety-five
I'm banging till I'm dead, I'll bang the Devil till' I'm back alive
Morе storage in this mag than all the folders in my Googlе Drive

[Verse 2]
Damn, shoot my op right in his forehead
Then I went and shot that b*tch again so now he's more dead
Then I called up Grunk to swing on by 'cause I need more lead
Then I summon your b*tch to the trap to get me more head, ugh

[Chorus]
b*tch don't f*ck with the Pack Man, ay
All black beamer like he's Batman, ay
b*tch he ran it up, he the Rack Man, ay
When they on the block do the tap dance, hey
[Verse 3]
b*tch you know I'm never bluffing
Pockets fatter than Dave Blunts eating eighteen chocolate muffins
Put a c*ck up on my AK now that b*tch gon' get to clucking
They call me the garbage man 'cause everyday I'm f*cking dumping
And your b*tch just like a sh*t coin, everyday I'm f*cking pumping
And this Draco always cracking, it ain't even do no bunting
And my backpack just like Toodles, never know what I be clutching
And my rocks they got two bands, I never know when I be f*cking, huh