This is a song about "Anthro bitches and chicken wings"

Crispy, crispy chicken.

Hold on you can see my vision

Different stage, switching paces like i'm shifting strings

And un-tether 'n' treasure your feather wings

These hoes thuggin, these nigga's bitches don’t know the difference

The post man steps within and brings me my ordered chicken wings,

Die wings in hallways and other words into the bible

Every since then our whole city been horrible

And that's why i won't trip, 'cause i'm relying on my wings

But the battle ain't over till the black man sings

We crack jokes about life, our moms, and brother's chicken,

The mirror's screaming at me saying i'm emmi lola's son

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king

Im on acid trips it looks like vultures and there wings are flapping