Pistol packing wild man

He’s a pistol packing ,
Never lacking ,
Give you a smacking, kinda guy.

He always flips his chips ,
He acid trips, candy flips,
he sips purple drank,
He does shit before he thinks.

He some time stinks, 
Like his mink,
He looks good in pink, 
But black is his color ,
He’s just one BAD motherfucker!

He comes from a hillbilly trucker ,
who beat on his mother,
His first felony came 
After taking the blame 
For beating that hillbilly silly.


On that day his life really changed 
Never going to be the same.
When he was released from jail,
He went to the pawn shop.
Bought him self a Glock.
And since then

He’s been a pistol packing ,
never lacking action ,
haters smacking ,
Rich folk jacking 
Kinda guy.

Always on the fly ,
Never having to try 
To catch the ladies eye.
Always on the move 
With nothing to lose 
But that’s how he chooses his moves.

Sometimes battered and bruised 
But very seldom did he lose.
Harley’s is what he cruised.
Crashed a few!

Never new  everyone’s name in the crew 
Because he was more of a loner set his own tone
So most just left him alone 
He never had a phone 
So to catch him you had to know where he roamed.
Places he laid his head 
His safe places “he said”
Very few would ever know,
Or know where to go .
He slept light 
with a pistol under his pillow every night.

He was a pistol packing,
Never lacking, 
Rich folk jacking,
Party favors packing 
Wild man 

But solid as they get when on that track
Hopefully one day he will find his way back 
Until then  
@()(;&/:)’v……$@&)

funk, raspy sexy female voice, medium slow jam