This is a song about "Churches chicken"

Odd future young enough to get your priest mouth drool

Churches searching for the pockets of the poor

Urges to do searches an mass muders, an paint churches just to get deserted,

Trust me these niggas rushed me for something my cousin probably did

Churches with dirty pastors my people pass the collection plate

And even though we seperated, you said that you'd wait

The j gets smaller, i'm loving my zone

Chicken bone, not a phone, chicken bone, not a phone

When i eat that chicken,

They had a hell of a run

She mighty fine but i notice that her heart resides next to bitterness

Shhh they will never surface worthless churches fed fiction for another purpose

In this chicken scratch i scribble and doodle

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

Verse 1: i'm eating this fried chicken.

The 7-pick up, yukon, the range is come