This is a song about "Fry cooks"

Leave the keys with that bitch, jets

Or a sunday fry x4

I fry niggas come at me than you might get yours

Tell the homies i'm in heaven and they ain't got hoods

And the games appeal to the struggling youth with no father

I got bigger fish to fry and wicked demons to conquer

No pork on the fork, but it’s white in the pot

Jay rock cooks rocks on a fuking stove top.

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

You can cut me up fry my ass like bacon i'll still survive

Signing off brother ali, sincerely yours

Mind's like an oven, sometimes when i'm baked these thoughts it cooks

My j-o-b to roast or fry this age old beef till the mic is h-o-t,

Bitch, i hit one button, my roof open like a hard spot