Cali Packs

[Intro]
(Mazza)
Weed, Cali, packs, Rizla's

[Chorus]
Backstrappin' this Cali, it's got me glitchin'
Thinkin' shit I've done years in the system
Backstrappin' this Cali, it's got me glitchin'
Thinkin' fuck a prosecution and a witness

[Verse 1]
Doin' laps on the yard doin' fitness
Fuck Santa, we got packs in for Christmas
I can tell you that this isn't a game
When it's beef lad I shoot with precisional aim
They put me in a cell, I got additional days
You can go and ask the Mancs what I did in the ways
Give a fuck about rappers and the drippiest chains
I'm still locked up with the drippiest blade
Still with the killers with the drilliest ways
And I really got a bird and had to sit in a cage
Where they really make you work for a minimum wage
But fuck tha' talkin' bout drills, you need guns first
You was at home probably robbin' out your mums pursе
We ask questions later and dump first
I was on thе railway seeing if the pump works
Shootings on foot, had to run til' my lungs burn
Can't tell me about footwork
I went to war with the rats like Dunkirk
I got double figures but it could've been much worse
Started rappin' in the cell, got them mad at me
Cause' I'm still doing time, fuck her majesty
D got the packs every week, used to pattern me
Meant to get released but got charged like a battery
God damn really made a kick like Rob Van
Bro I lost count of the times that I shot man
Could've been a body but the sweet didn't bang cause' it got damp
Real waps, you just got blanks
Got robbed for your work, then you got blanked
Hit with three straps, went jail where they got shanks
Packs was the only income so it got banked

[Chorus]
Backstrappin' this Cali, it's got me glitchin'
Thinkin' shit I've done years in the system
Backstrappin' this Cali, it's got me glitchin'
Thinkin' fuck a prosecution and a witness

[Verse 2]
Stop wishin', the clocks tickin', we drop missions
Glocks spittin', the tops rippin', I'm not kiddin'
It's handwritten, they're transmitting what I'm spittin'
Transitioned to transmissions, the gangs winnin'
Fuck that', I done it on my ones, who am I kiddin'
A1 could've took a strap, took a knife with him
Took a life, got life, do ya write to him?
I just chill and get high and do nights with him
We bang hammers, not bandannas like Santana
I went slammer, they had jammers and phone scanners
Big daggers and bro's savage, got no manners
So callous, think about the Opps, I get pissed off
Pull up on your block with the mop, do a pitstop