P.A.C.C

[Intro] *(Heavy bassline, eerie synth tones, ad-libs echoing in the background)* [Verse 1: Dull] Yo, Dull in the cut with a blunt lit, ash flickin’— P.A.C. ride, we the ones you ain’t tickin’. Leo pack the .40, Chunk got the chopper mid-kitchen, Smoke a opp’s stash, leave his squad in a ditch, bitchin’. F**k boys line up, we ain’t talkin’ no cursive, Triggers get pulled, turn they bones to a service. Green in my lungs, yeah, this kush got me nervous— Piss Ants swarm, you just roaches we squishin’. [Chorus] P.A.C. loaded, barrels hot like a sauna, Dull, Leo, Chunk—three kings of the trauma. Blowin’ gas, spittin’ lead, f**k a fake persona, You a target, we the spark in the Florida drama. [Verse 2: Leo] Leo in the field with a clip full of spite, Piss Ants creep, leave your block lookin’ like Pompeii. Dull twist a Backwood, Chunk countin’ up overnight, F**k boy bloodshed—call it art, we Picasso tight. Weed smoke thick, got my vision on haze mode, Triggers sing lullabies, put your gang in the gravehole. P.A.C. tattooed on my chest, no erase code, Cross us? You’ll end up a meme in a face-off. [Bridge] *(All three ad-lib)* “P.A.C. till I rot!” (Till I rot!) “Burn one for the squad!” (For the squad!) “F**k boys catch a shot!” (Brrt, brrt!) [Verse 3: Chunk] Chunk with the drum, turn a party to Flanders, Piss Ants stampede, crush your clique for the gram, bruh. Dull got the gas, Leo got the demands, uh— We don’t drop raps, we drop laws in the sand, bruh. Smoke rings rise like the ghosts we done buried, P.A.C. legacy—ain’t no time to be wary. F**k around, get your chain took, no “sorry”— We the trap kings, and this here’s our manifesto. [Outro] *(Bass fades, distant sirens, crew laughter echoing)*