This is a song about "Fried chicken balls"

Closest you'll get is being chicken

They'll have to rename this one

Crispy, crispy chicken.

He’s tha only one

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

Get ya' cake right, every chicken wanna slice

Whatever man, as long as tyson isn't chicken

Ok, black panamera, dash on a million

Don’t wanna have me then somebody will

Mind fried and cynical, in hindsight it's critical

Cause i got the burner in the hand

You fried under that heated lamp,

That's why they ride the bandwagon still be draggin' sellin' lies

Word of advise, don't feed your customers chicken fried mice,

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

Niggas run and hidenapoleon will provide