This is a song about "Fried oreos"

But the love from the boppers had 'him watchin they rise

Yeah your fried i may be pork rines but i survive

And i be good til the fat woman sing a note

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

Murder for murder, the beef recycled is light

To run and hide, now your pussies fried

Would you cry if i told you that i've died inside, brain fried

I'm a geophyte, move under the ground til i can see the light

Mind fried and cynical, in hindsight it's critical

They just need convincing like malcolm little

More money to count, yeah you know i’m gettin' right

My brain work differently then others baby it is fried

No sneak dissin or get fried up crisp by the heat ray

So hit me with them cups, ron artest stepen jackson, yea