This is a song about "Crispy crunchy peanut buttery backwoods"

It's like we both forgot what we were fighting for

Candy niggaz re-see's we see ur peanut butter

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised

Khakis pressed, nike shoes crispy and fresh laced, so i guess it ain't

What up girl, tell me how you been

Bitch is crispy, i'm overcooking

I get more respect from the motherfuckin' dope manthe grammy's and american music shows

I'm the creator of cooking people til they're thick and crispy like baked potatoes.

The goods assures to fill neighborhoods with smoke from the backwoods

Check me i be jumping out the coupe, swagger through the roof

But now i see myself on stage,spitting like its fire leaving the mic in flames

Cause you be lookin fatter from eatin too many peanut butter pancakes

The goods assures to fill neighborhoods with smoke from the backwoods

And her little baby daughter really love them harry potter books

Dumb hillbilly backwoods hicks, trying to mask our past,

The walls i couldn't break em or take em apart with a tank