(feat. Beezo, Mr. 3-2, Pup) Heat packer... [Mr. 3-2:] When I clap that cannon, niggaz fall down dead Killer gorilla, for the bread I ain't scared Get ahead, whatever it take to get over Two 2-3's, knocking heads off niggaz shoulders I told ya, now it's too late to plea bargain No organ, pistol up and I'm mobbing Squabbing, box in the street with no shoes Slapping fools, use a mark like a tattoo Drama ain't shit, but a five letter word Boys get curred, and fucked off for the birds I know you heard, we ain't scared of no jackers Down in H-Town, the home of the heat packers [Hook: x2] Heat packers, kidnappers and thugs Fried out sipping mud, and jacking for drugs Cock back the hammer, and empty the whole clip Niggaz ain't bout shit, so ride or get hit [Beezo:] It spun, the heat packers are moving the packs A package is falsing for real, selling illigitmate deal Far from being, some of that fake shit that you spill All that kill em up bang-bang, dope sale that you claim I don't claim to be, nothing I'm not to be The apple don't fall far from the tree, I know my family tree you feeling me Killers and drug dealers, thug niggaz my fam to be And tell that you visit your fam, from the gutter they rose up Tried to better me growing up, raised right by my team The streets ripped me to be, a heat packing MC Push and it came, blowing on trees riding on 3's Me and that nigga 3, kicking that S.G. [Hook x2] [Pup:] Motherfucker I'm a heat packer, with jacking deleting jackers No problem with busting my pistol, you niggaz got it backwards I'm a soldier, Ridgemont veteran quick to fold ya I told ya, for 2005 the game's over I don't know ya, so what I'ma box you fo' See I ain't got time to play with you bitch, I'ma pop you hoe So when you see me in the streets, don't try to flag me down Them be the same bitch niggaz, that try to drag me down I ain't no rookie nigga, you better ask around I put-p-put on that mask, and come and blast your town I'm packing heat, and got four or five niggaz packing it with me Artillery, nobody packing rounds under fifty You fellas wanna get with me, come prepared then nigga Cause I'm going all out, if I gotta stab me a nigga But my pistol and my choppers, usually right on my side With my finger on the trigger, and I'm ready to ride cause we some [Hook x2]
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Copy to Clipboard: (feat. Beezo, Mr. 3-2, Pup) Heat packer... [Mr. 3-2:] When I clap that cannon, niggaz fall down dead Killer gorilla, for the bread I ain't scared Get ahead, whatever it take to get over Two 2-3's, knocking heads off niggaz shoulders I told ya, now it's too late to plea bargain No organ, pistol up and I'm mobbing Squabbing, box in the street with no shoes Slapping fools, use a mark like a tattoo Drama ain't shit, but a five letter word Boys get curred, and fucked off for the birds I know you heard, we ain't scared of no jackers Down in H-Town, the home of the heat packers [Hook: x2] Heat packers, kidnappers and thugs Fried out sipping mud, and jacking for drugs Cock back the hammer, and empty the whole clip Niggaz ain't bout shit, so ride or get hit [Beezo:] It spun, the heat packers are moving the packs A package is falsing for real, selling illigitmate deal Far from being, some of that fake shit that you spill All that kill em up bang-bang, dope sale that you claim I don't claim to be, nothing I'm not to be The apple don't fall far from the tree, I know my family tree you feeling me Killers and drug dealers, thug niggaz my fam to be And tell that you visit your fam, from the gutter they rose up Tried to better me growing up, raised right by my team The streets ripped me to be, a heat packing MC Push and it came, blowing on trees riding on 3's Me and that nigga 3, kicking that S.G. [Hook x2] [Pup:] Motherfucker I'm a heat packer, with jacking deleting jackers No problem with busting my pistol, you niggaz got it backwards I'm a soldier, Ridgemont veteran quick to fold ya I told ya, for 2005 the game's over I don't know ya, so what I'ma box you fo' See I ain't got time to play with you bitch, I'ma pop you hoe So when you see me in the streets, don't try to flag me down Them be the same bitch niggaz, that try to drag me down I ain't no rookie nigga, you better ask around I put-p-put on that mask, and come and blast your town I'm packing heat, and got four or five niggaz packing it with me Artillery, nobody packing rounds under fifty You fellas wanna get with me, come prepared then nigga Cause I'm going all out, if I gotta stab me a nigga But my pistol and my choppers, usually right on my side With my finger on the trigger, and I'm ready to ride cause we some [Hook x2]
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