Cookie Pack - Drakeo The Ruler, Ralfy The Plug

Put that thing in that thing, cock back clips and reload

You heard what happened to the last nigga tryna be Debo?

Kurt Angle, got Mei Ling and Su Yung in a headlock

Jimmy Choos, which one, you want a face or a headshot?

Mob sticks in the car, finna knock his dreads off

Wall to wall, the beat slappin' like I’m playin' handball

In the jungle, I’m a Grizzly like I’m Zack Randolph

Fifty shots out the Bentley, let’s see if his head strong

They like, «Drakeo, why you do that?

You know you dead wrong»

«He had his whole career ahead of him,» when he died, it was bread crumbs

When the the 40 ounce hit him outside he left red rum

Oh my God, Jesus, what did they do to my grandson?

(Shit)

I think you need to speak a little louder

Beef with his beef, we turned that to clam chowder

If you don’t got no money, you can’t buy no man power

This chopper, it just had a nigga stuck for ten hours

We are not the same, I don’t know niggas

Have him swimmin' with the sharks like goldfishes

Two chops', named 'em «Rocky» and «Bullwinkle»

Grim reaper, street sweeper, I’m a soul snatcher

Heard they givin' out deals on the toe taggin'

Hit stick, this a blitz, I’m like go Madden

In this year, '21, they for sure rattin'

Oh that’s your friend, you don’t care, start a GoFundMe

Motorcader shooter, drums on the table bulletproof

Opps out there hidin' behind the cameras, put a hoodie on

Tricky dance moves, psychedelic, get yo' boogie on

Rap beef gone in the wind, he’s a cookie pack (Shit, nigga)

We ain’t going back and forth, he’s a rookie rapper (Nigga)

That beef gone in the wind, he’s a cookie pack

Yeah, he’s a tattoo

Mouth runnin' like a bitch, that’s what rats do

Chopsticks, mop sticks, nigga, start cleanin'

Made him strip from a stick long as Shaq' shoe (Sheesh)

That’s a ad-lib

I catch you squeakin', I’ma cut off his rat tail

I’m from the Stinc Team, we bought all the racks in

Just 'cause it sunny up in Cali, it ain’t that sweet

You out of town niggas better pay y’all taxes

Three thousand blues stuffed in the mattress

You Heath Ledger and we all know how that went

Three-hundred thousand in the duffle, do a backflip

Motorcader shooter, drums on the table bulletproof

Opps out there hidin' behind the cameras, put a hoodie on

Tricky dance moves, psychedelic, get yo' boogie on

Rap beef gone in the wind, he’s a cookie pack (Shit, nigga)

We ain’t going back and forth, he’s a rookie rapper (Nigga)

That beef gone in the wind, he’s a cookie pack

Another opp dead, turn a nigga to cookie pack

We gettin' money, you still broke wit' your rookie ass

Niggas get shot in the face for getting mad

I asked her for some money and she went in her hooker bag

I’m like the cashier the way a nigga took her cash

I’m the truth in the booth, I cook up fast

In the county I went form door to door and whoopin' ass

Niggas like, «Can I get some Plug pack?

That shit be gas»

That’s a XD-40 with extended mag'

I want a Bentley, yo' dream car just a Jag'

Mob ties to the word and he’ll get whacked

It’s like he wear a fresh cut to school how he’ll get smacked (Uh)

Motorcader shooter, drums on the table bulletproof

Opps out there hidin' behind the cameras, put a hoodie on

Tricky dance moves, psychedelic, get yo' boogie on

Rap beef gone in the wind, he’s a cookie pack (Shit, nigga)

We ain’t going back and forth, he’s a rookie rapper (Nigga)

That beef gone in the wind, he’s a cookie pack