This is a song about "Wil fry"

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

Nigga with too much to say, you might make a fool of yourself

Or a sunday fry x4

Leave the keys with that bitch, jets

Flower bomb detonator iv tech in route

That wil tell you staight and shame you out

Fuck rules, skate life, rape, write, repeat twice

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

I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for

I got bigger fish to fry and wicked demons to conquer

I wil make you suffer with my laughing curse...

You little young-ass motherfuckers

I'm not an asshole i just don't give a fuck a lot

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