This is a song about "Dropped my fried rice"

Mind fried and cynical, in hindsight it's critical

Weird niggas make sick too i don't need no pistol

You just want jewelry and all them fuckin shopping sprees

Serve em with my bowl of lead mixed with rice krispies

Don't be surprised. if i hit you with a sack of rice

He fathers her only kid that's why my homies let him live

You fried under that heated lamp,

You’re on neon lights in my bank

Never really been into the ice

I catch that touchdown like jerry rice

Fuck rules, skate life, rape, write, repeat twice

Id rather be a man, satisfied by a grain of rice

Dropped in my grades and forced down in school with no say.

Then some lady named billie holiday