This is a song about "Fried oreos"

Sex is just a weapon, i can leave you wet from this pistol

Mind fried and cynical, in hindsight it's critical

Yeah your fried i may be pork rines but i survive

Kill em all, fuck em all. hip-hop really is alive

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

So my cup is full, too much pain to fight

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

She ain't trippin off nuttin’ nobody else say

Southern comfort food, mashed potatoes, fried chicken,

Lord i'm so focused more focused than i ever been

Scrilla fan, oh boy and

You fried under that heated lamp,

You know i love my team, but they couldn't see my vision

Southern comfort food, mashed potatoes, fried chicken,

I'm walkin' to the food trays to get some fried chicken,

And he tryna make it front row to the show to throw me one