This is a song about "Wil fry"

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

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

Yeah, uh, where's the love for the sixteen writers

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

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

I fry niggas come at me than you might get yours

If you do then ima have to aim and fry

Luchador like i been masked but still remain fly

I got bigger fish to fry and wicked demons to conquer

All this flow that i give em, i live by the code and i'll leave her

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

My lady friends never really be into the life

Fry them up like potatoes

You feel it from your head to your toes