Intro
E B F#m A 
E B F#m A 
 
Verse 1
            E                   B 
When you're driving through the ghetto 
        F#m          C#m 
In your hillbilly truck 
       E                  B 
'Cause you made two wrong turns 
          F#m7               A 
And suddenly you're outta luck 
        E                   B 
And you look up in the projects 
        F#m                 C#m 
And you start to smell that weed 
          E                   B 
Lock your doors, turn the windows up 
      F#m7                 A 
Pray for the light to go green 
 
Chorus
 
                  E     B 
And you better be packing 
        F#m       C#m 
That ole 9 double M 
    E               B 
Rolling through Atlanta 
          F#m7                    A 
With that scared-ass white boy grin 
            E                   F#m 
And you're comin' back from hunting 
         F#m7                   C#m 
But you shot through all your clips 
     E             B 
You call the cops but they just laugh 
     F#m              A 
Said we ain't comin' in 
C#m 
If you get a flat 
                 B        A  B 
You better drive on the rim 
E                 B        F#m7   A 
And you better be packing 
E                 B       F#m7   A 
Oh you better be packing 
 
Verse 2
     E             B 
And when you take a road trip 
      F#m              C#m 
After dark and you pull off 
    E                B 
The only place that's open 
      F#m7           A 
Is a run down quickie mart 
        E             B 
And you want that Copenhagen 
        F#m7         C#m 
But you have to go inside 
        E                  B 
There's meth-heads drinkin' red bull 
      F#m7            A 
Underneath a Bud Light sign 
 
Chorus] 
 
                  E     B 
And you better be packing 
        F#m       C#m 
That ole 9 double M 
    E               B 
Rolling through Atlanta 
          F#m7                    A 
With that scared-ass white boy grin 
            E                   F#m 
And you're comin' back from hunting 
         F#m7                   C#m 
But you shot through all your clips 
     E             B 
You call the cops but they just laugh 
     F#m              A 
Said we ain't comin' in 
C#m 
If you get a flat 
                 B        A  B 
You better drive on the rim 
E                 B        F#m7   A 
And you better be packing         And you better be packing 
E                 B       F#m7   A 
 
Verse 3
       C#m 
And we ain't in Kansas anymore 
      B 
Hell we're in south LA 
      A 
Where camo pants and spit cups mean 
    B 
I'm in a rival gang 
 
Chorus
 
                  E     B 
And you better be packing 
        F#m       C#m 
That ole 9 double M 
    E               B 
Rolling through Miami 
          F#m7                    A 
With that scared-ass white boy grin 
            E                   F#m 
And you're comin' back from Fishing 
         F#m7            C#m 
But you didn’t pack no clips 
     E             B 
You call the cops but they just laugh 
     F#m              A 
Said we no inglés my friend 
C#m 
If you get a flat 
                 B        A  B 
You better drive on that rim 
E                 B        F#m7   A 
And you better be packing 
E                 B       F#m7   A 
Oh you better be packing 
 
Outro
            E                   B 
So don’t be driving through the ghetto 
        F#m 
In your hillbilly truck