This is a song about "Fry"

Pass it round, counter-clock, let her show her titties, stop

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

He fathers her only kid that's why my homies let him live

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

Fall in love with defeat, throw my endeavors on the shelf

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

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

But make it in time for shitty re-runs of rocket power

Fry them up like potatoes

Here they keep a rachet close

After lebron, i'm what's next

Or a sunday fry x4

I got bigger fish to fry and wicked demons to conquer

Whether it's god almighty, or the almighty dollar