Southern Fried

[Verse 1] Welcome to this country fried bonafide And my flow is sweet as a potato pie Never been a sour apple, I'm a now-or-later guy I'mma tell her something sweet and she gon' lick me later, guy Hello to my hater guy, how you doing sir I know you got mean words But keep them to yourself unless those murders will occur Cause I'm from killa kill Adamsville right next door Bowen Homes and Dixie Hills, Allen Temple Wildwood and Plainville These motherfuckers murder here in plain sight Everyday broad daylight, they ain't right Shit's loco out in Zone 4 Since the '80s it's been that way though My nigga uncle died shooting back at the po-po He went out but he ain't go slow though Even hit the cop back with the 4-4 though Got buried in the Rolex, Jordans and a Polo Nigga died pretty as a pimp in a photo Woah-Woah-- Yeen heard fat boy He ain't say that boy, don't even try to act, boy That fat black motherfucker got a way with the words I tell you, he can rap, boy Respect my words like a rabbi I'm a porterhouse, you a motherfucking ribeye Hate on me to your girlfriend, she gonna look you dead eye Tell you "So? Motherfucker he still fly." [Hook] Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean? Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine? (Ain't I??) Ain't I one-hundred player for sure Ain't I slick bout pimp game and just might mack on your ho (Ain't I??) Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean? Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine? (Ain't I??) Ain't I one-hundred player for sure Ain't I sleep my pimp game and just might mack on your ho (Ain't I??) [Verse 2] So fresh, so clean, rolling down the street so slow, so sweet Like a cup of codeine. Smoking on that Irene With a sweet country girl named Irene I lean, Feeling irie, I be Strapped to the motherfucking T so please don't try me My Chevrolet lay butt naked on the asphault slow flashing her high beams And I'm still in the company of Irene and we been joined by Maxine We maxing, relaxing, chilling, double-stacking And me being the West Side player that I be I'm trying to see what's happening And what's happening? But not menage, in my garage With these two young ladies, is the reason I I-dee-daz That's "All Day I Dream About" That sexing You texting, hoping that they call you I just barbecue and call 'em up and say "Hey fall through" You know it's shrimp and lobster tails And they into a room with lots of players My partners young black millionaires, and they all about some money Yeah youngin it's a double entendre, you ain't gotta wonder when you ask for Wanda "What you been doing?" "Hanging out with Shawnna." Yeah, you nuttin' honey [Hook] [Verse 3] Moet? Rolex. Big Benz, no flex Wedding ring on finger, I married a Trina Pretty as a singer, Fine as a stripper When we in the strip club strippers try to tip her I don't want no dance, ho, get up off my zipper You ain't try to rip me if you ain't try to rip her We like Bun and Pimp bitch, see we is a duo This that Ball and J shit, we don't need no new ho See I've got a suave mouth which purchases my suave house This that 2Live Crew Shit, I rap a lot about new shit This that country rap tune southern fried funky shit I am the antithesis or opposite of monkey shit And that's some education for ya'll thinking we unlearned Cause I often play that Gucci crew and walk around with perms And we bought them '95 Impalas paint them bitches orange We gang-stars like Preem and Guru cause respect was hard to earn [Hook]