This is a song about "Deep fried pickles"

With deep, intricate, meticulous rhymes

Penthouse on collins, money long as ocean drive

You fried under that heated lamp,

Stack in his hand trynna make that last

Running and dicing fried rice and no accent on rice please,

And danced around the house in all-over print panties

Mind fried and cynical, in hindsight it's critical

You're reaching new heights, and i ain't kiss you just a little

I see a f-cken stargot your momma screamingfor me, like i'm eldebargelookin at my skin

Frickin fried tie-dyed chicken just listen, you mother fucker cock sucker slurp burp into submission

Ain’t nobody fuckin’ with my clique

It's getting colder, shouldn't have dug so deep

Would you cry if i told you that i've died inside, brain fried

Why they try to see my flow, but they know that's outta sight

You're uncool like my mother kin

Fried, despised my heart that lies within/