This is a song about "Deep fried pickles"

Don't murder me murder me, killa a nigga in his sleep

Shout it loud as you can, i ain't listening, i breathe deep,

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

Southern comfort food, mashed potatoes, fried chicken,

Girl i don’t want to rush tonight

To run and hide, now your pussies fried

Im way out of my head, i can't think anymore my brain i fried, it's dead

Leasin' a vehicle quick enough to see people that don't even exist yet

I don't wanna be fried or baked

Most bitches, niggas gone me real or fake

Harder niggas try to hate me, they be lovin’ this side

My brain work differently then others baby it is fried

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

350 on the stove and it's 90 outside

When did my problems get so deep?

Seein' dreams in they sleep