This is a song about "Safe home eat chicken orange thug"

Southern comfort food, mashed potatoes, fried chicken,

I kiss you on the forehead, baby just listen

9 months later, new car, can’t afford a son

Served in my kitchens with my fired chicken,

Give players plenty space

The streetz is aint the safe

Heard you gotta be a thug

And the governor couldn’t give one fuck

I'll straight drop your ass, here comes "clockwork orange",

And if that means that i'm askin for too much

None of that i rather go home safe and not havin mom whoop my ass,

I was watching, remote pleaseniggas want what they can't have

This is what the devil plays before he goes to sleep

We gettin’ chicken but these skinny models wan’ eat.

The j gets smaller, i'm loving my zone

Chicken bone, not a phone, chicken bone, not a phone