This is a song about "Fried chicken and fucking koolaid"

I am not the only one

Closest you'll get is being chicken

We crack jokes about life, our moms, and brother's chicken,

That's how this shit be goin when you go for number one

I'm not a chicken, and i'm sorry that this rap is late,

Churches with dirty pastors my people pass the collection plate

Unify them, mob through, take over and

You fried under that heated lamp,

For the outlawz, here we come

Crispy, crispy chicken.

She got something i never had

Of koolaid in here flab pack

Somewhere in this chicken scratch i scribble and doodle

Ceremony with all my homies, i'm suicidal

Will i still keep the couragei refuse to be a role model

So i wanna make sure somewhere in this chicken scratch i scribble and doodle