This is a song about "Fried onions"

Watchin the cops roll byit ain't easy... that's right

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

Killing our dreams, stealing our vision

Verse 1: i'm eating this fried chicken.

I don't wanna be fried or baked

Now a nigga got baking to bake

Cause i got the burner in the hand

You fried under that heated lamp,

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

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

I'm official nice, y'all niggas fisher price

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

Southern comfort food, mashed potatoes, fried chicken,

Got a fuckin' blog that needs a post? i can get it done

Im way out of my head, i can't think anymore my brain i fried, it's dead

So don't be acting shyi run my fingers through your hairthen i lay you on the bed