Packin’ Them Things lyrics

[Intro: Busta Rhymes]
This sound like some music from mother f*cking Fat Albert show and sh*t
You know what I mean?
Sound like the organs from Fat Albert n*gga
What's going on here?

[Verse 1: Busta Rhymes]
Look
I be the most incredible, alphabetical unforgettable
God of the spit, that's why I talk sh*t
Phenomally pursuing most of the heads of most of you n*ggas
That's why I be the friction and I spark sh*t
And while you sporadically notice who's the don man
Exploding hoods to emphatically burned farm land
Ha
n*ggas asking me not to do it sire
Knowing embalming fluid is mixed with my saliva
Need me to move the Maybach, holler at my driver
I'm still voting for Obama despite a couple of priors
I pay you n*ggas no mind, you a bunch of (?) liars
Now how the frenzy going to stop this
Cause I bring it back like (?) boxes
While I continue to lock this
Pop this off
And then
Drop this on
Every single hood I target
And then corner the market
Stop this homes
You can't watch this
The way I sh*t on beats and then I fart b*tch
I paint lyrical pictures like beautiful art b*tch
Trust me
I don't think you wanna start b*tch
[Hook: Busta Rhymes]
(I stay packing them things)
Well I give it to n*ggas everytime
You know its Busta Rhymes
(I stay packing them things)
If a n*gga test me when I'm in the hood
I wish a n*gga would
(I stay packing them things)
Its Flipmode b*tch
We got a Santa Claus bag full of goodies
(I stay packing them things)
With a cargo of dudes in the van
Face covered up with hoodies
(I stay packing them things)

[Verse 2: Busta Rhymes]
I ain't even get to rolling my sleeves up
While I'm f*cking a whore like I'm f*cking a b*tch weave up
Sizzle the street and I ain't even beginning to heat up
Like watching a bum fight how n*ggas get lyrically beat up
Its Flipmode b*tch I love how the game need us
While I'm in Costa Rica
Chilling in a villa with my feet up
You know I love to eat up
Whack mother f*ckers
Especially when I get munchies after smoking the weed up
And bust n*ggas heads 'til they catch convulsions and bleed out
Or b*tches get excited and they start staining my seats up
See how I light the streets up
n*ggas talk tough when this noise around the music
Too loud you need to speak up
Everyday you know I'm knowing
And I constantly be showing motherf*ckers how to do it the right way
Every now and then I might play
And show a n*gga what it is
And how I handle biz
You might have caught me on a white day
So don't ever shoot a subliminal on my balls
You're probably better off battling Jacob in a fight club
And make me pop the right slug
But its nothing n*ggas know I'm one of the greatest
Thanks to Joe Budden
[Hook: Busta Rhymes]
(I stay packing them things)
Well I give it to n*ggas everytime
You know its Busta Rhymes
(I stay packing them things)
If a n*gga test me when I'm in the hood
I wish a n*gga would
(I stay packing them things)
Its Flipmode b*tch
We got a Santa Claus bag full of goodies
(I stay packing them things)
With a cargo of dudes in the van
Face covered up with hoodies
(I stay packing them things)