This is a song about "Fry fry freddie"

And the discography, somethin' you got to see

Triple claws to the mid like you met freddie

No, no, we are not those

Fry them up like potatoes

Or a sunday fry x4

Leave the keys with that bitch, jets

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

I fry niggas come at me than you might get yours

Balling in herrrrrrre let-let-let-let it fly

If you do then ima have to aim and fry

Wall street bankers' wallets get padded, remember freddie mac?

Where fiends always on that water like a lily pad

It's not a figure of speech when i tell you that i dumped her

So type ur best n i'll fry ur set take a minute n hour