This is a song about "Stir fry"

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

I fry niggas come at me than you might get yours

Had to teach the bitch manners, now i gotta learn her

I got bigger fish to fry and wicked demons to conquer

All fifty seein visions of me shot in the chestcouldn't rest, nah nigga i was stressed

I was raised to cuss,stir up shit,want to be the best southern pride beats in the chest

Fighting like some kinda u.f.o sighting...stir up the

That maybe we can slide intobut now you buriedrest nigga

Sippin then call a cab nobody know their limit

Stir the beef up in a pot, it's hot, cook it up and sell it,

So i told her i got something you've been waiting for

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

All up in my jeans and i'm gunna' hit her with that

To stir it up like a spoon in a cauldron of shit

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

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