This is a song about "Deep fried christ"

Now i don't want to sound bad, gangster or fried,

What a sad sight, lookin’ at my gas light

Then bring your big bad ass to california, cause we ain't hard to find

Lord i'm ready, born again, hustle, 'till i found jesus christ,

Miami nights, made a couple grand

You fried under that heated lamp,

Turn to the side, let me see them thighs

Yeah your fried i may be pork rines but i survive

Jesus christ of rappad, haters want me crucified,

I know you see me looking girl go on and act right

Fried, despised my heart that lies within/

You just working with the scraps you was given

Now we was once two niggas of the same kind

Two thousand and one years after christ