Packed Out lyrics

[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
I've been running up a bag, counting racks out
We illegal up in Vegas, sending packs out
Glock 30 with a stick, for the back down
Glock in her purse, case the club with the pat down
It ain't hard to hear your n*gga in the background
Lil n*gga ain't no nines in this Mac rounds
Backshots make her tap out
Let him reach for these chains, he get packed out

[Verse 1: Philthy Rich]
Rich as f*ck, but still never switching up
Make sure it's about money, when you mention us
Lil n*gga sliding on a dummy mission
Engine light on in the transmission
Moms found my stash, a couple bands missing
Fell out with some n*ggas, I felt back and gave them distance
No culinary arts, but I was in the kitchen
b*tch, I'm in the Guinness book for cooking the most chickens
It's filthy

[Verse 2: Slimmy B]
I'm a motherf*cking savage
Gucci for the shoes, Monclair for the jacket
n*ggas want a verse, there's a fee, b*tch, I'm taxing
40 flip a n*gga like a p*ssed on mattress
For any of my n*gga turn to a snake I can't imagine
I'm stacking, can't see you broke n*ggas like I'm dabbin
No time for a ratchet, need a b*tch on her bag sh*t
Acting, slide on your block and wreak havoc
b*tch
[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
I've been running up a bag, counting racks out
We illegal up in Vegas, sending packs out
Glock 30 with a stick, for the back down
Glock in her purse, case the club with the pat down
It ain't hard to hear your n*gga in the background
Lil n*gga ain't no nines in this Mac rounds
Backshots make her tap out
Let him reach for these chains, he get packed out

[Verse 3: Dolla Dame]
This one for the gang, gang n*ggas only
And I can't call you brodie, unless you shoot for me
Whole lotta blue strips, I've been checking chicken
20 large stuffed inside my denim, you see how I'm living
I ran it up, me and my brodie, hoe, don't ask for sh*t
You wasn't with me shooting in the gym, I couldn't afford a zip
Now it's designer sh*t I be in, all the fly sh*t
The bust down Rollie, I can't even tell what time it is
n*gga

[Verse 4: DaBoii]
I stand out with these bands, you just stand tall
I'm in a rush to them bands, I can't stand tall
Big sticks on the Glocks, we ain't playing golf
Hit a lick, never panic, b*tch, we play it off
He ain't putting in no work, then we lay him off
b*tch, your n*gga taking orders, 'cause he ain't a boss
I fall down, I get up, b*tch, I shake it off
And if I don't got that strap, then I'm taking off
[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
I've been running up a bag, counting racks out
We illegal up in Vegas, sending packs out
Glock 30 with a stick, for the back down
Glock in her purse, case the club with the pat down
It ain't hard to hear your n*gga in the background
Lil n*gga ain't no nines in this Mac rounds
Backshots make her tap out
Let him reach for these chains, he get packed out

[Verse 5: Lul G]
Big 40 get to bussing, pus*y n*gga, I don't thump
Ten chains on my neck, VVS, I don't tuck
Blue hunnids in these denims, young n*gga, I don't tuck
Hundred rounds in the chop, making pus*y n*ggas run
But brodie by my side, and he stay with that Mac
Let a pus*y disrespect, then a pus*y on his back
Young wild n*gga, so I gotta keep a strap
sh*t get real in the field, so it's 50 in the Mac

[Verse 6 ?]
Money coming fast, the more n*ggas get to hating
Then they see the diamonds, broke n*ggas get to playing
sh*t by my side, lil n*gga tryna [?]
Tryna reach for my chain, stupid boy, still lame
Look in my face, and tell me no lies
Can't touch the new n*gga, who're a b*tch on the side
Now I'm sitting in the [?] in a new 25
Stupid ass young n*ggas, I ain't even touched a 5
b*tch
[Chorus: Yhung T.O.]
I've been running up a bag, counting racks out
We illegal up in Vegas, sending packs out
Glock 30 with a stick, for the back down
Glock in her purse, case the club with the pat down
It ain't hard to hear your n*gga in the background
Lil n*gga ain't no nines in this Mac rounds
Backshots make her tap out
Let him reach for these chains, he get packed out