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……$@&)