This is a song about "Fried children"

Give it back with a sensitive mouth and some hard knees

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

You find yourself thinking more about the children

"ma, i gotta eat...i don't know your religion

Box car children trying to hide

That's how we make it right

All the innocent little children

My talent should take me places i've never been

Whatever you like, it's whatever tonight

Pushin innocent children of buildings isn't normal right?

You little niggas little league i'm the real thing

There's children dying and i am crying

Instead of veggie fried lies and man's eyes exposed,

And be the last nigga left, then i'll be ghost