This is a song about "Chicken and chips"

I'm making straight bitches pussy wet just like a noodle

Somewhere in this chicken scratch i scribble and doodle

Inked up on my hands and arms, got them jams in my pocket

This bastard spits bits of acid chips and half ass the shit

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

Soon as para finite will paralyze her existence

Whatever man, as long as tyson isn't chicken

Got a fuckin' blog that needs a post? i can get it done

Chunky bits were the result of those puffy chips

I put you over my money, all of my nice kicks

Crispy, crispy chicken.

I'm a son of a gun

If i call your hotline and pay 29.99 shit

Chips, chocolate, pop, popcorn and music

Dub a.l.e., such a son of a gun

Served in my kitchens with my fired chicken,