This is a song about "Fry cooks"

Going ham with the beef cooks, raw, killing rappers now,

Used to nun-chuck em, now i got to donatello bow

Fry them up like potatoes

Clips in the play clothes

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

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

Hook me up to a chair and watch as my brains fry,

Don’t know which one i’ma drive, fuck it, i’m just gone fly

To my young nationparticipation, more hesitation could turn lethal

But the head pounds, mind cooks like i found a disease that's venereal

Silver bullets, purple piff, blue pills, grey goose

Janitors and cooks and guards and tellers, that's bad news,

Because it's hard trying to pay the bills when you're by yourself

If critics say my rhyme's stink, i'll fry em til there's burnin smells