Packy – Fever lyrics

[Verse 1]
I got that fever, they like it
I know this, I'm psychic
When I'm out in public they all on my private
Low key I'm thrown, low key I'm cold
Low key I'm platinum if these records ever get sold
R-R-Records ever get sold, records ever get sold
Low key I'm Chamberlain, these records never get old
That hundo' percent
Five hundo' for rent
When I'm paid out, forget what that five hundo' meant
Fever, I got it bad
Get a little bit of that swag, bit of that sag
Bit of that got you mad
Get a little hit of ass
Bit a little bit of gas
Bit of that flame
Give her that player, spit her that game
Tell that chick to get rid of that lane
Ask that chick what she thinkin'
I'm that guy, where you been?
I'ma leave my boys with your friends
Yeah that's fine
Used to ask, now I say what's on my mind
Like, "Come over girl, I've been known to get faded off of wine"
She said, "Let me feel your head, that's a fever every time"

[Chorus]
Man down
I'm throwing up
Nobody put they hands down it's a holdup
I'm hella' hot
Can't come close to a kid like me
But you can get it front row, get hyphy
Get high, g-get high
Get high, g-get high
Get high, g-get high
It just might be that fever

[Verse 2]
Uh, I'm messed up
They newly faded fresh cut
My team the on-deck circle man we next up
Midwest, I get it
Detroit I might fit it
Midwest, that's my shit
Nobody messin' with it
Two of them make one of me
CEO of my company
R.E.F.S.: Rich Early Fuck Stress
Real shit, don't ask choes
Don't approach with no ass, woah
Not normally like this but that fever make me an asshole
Oh my damn though
They love me all on that channel
Got the rap game on that utter shit, I'm milking it with no cattle
Keep that flame on with no candle
Ri-Ride the beat with no handle
She want to ri-ride with no saddle
She said "Hit it boy with no paddle", dang
I'm doing something right I ain't changin' a thing
Moved out of that neighborhood but I ain't changing the name
Speck though 'til I die, Speck choes they fly
Get you over them ex choes, got next choes on my mind

[Chorus]
Man down
I'm throwing up
Nobody put they hands down it's a holdup
I'm hella' hot
Can't come close to a kid like me
But you can get it front row get hyphy
Get high, g-get high
Get high, g-get high
Get high, g-get high
It just might be that fever

[Outro]
Uhh, yeah, uhh, yeah
Uhh, uhh, yeah