Fried Chicken (Album Version Explicit)

Uh, Lord, Lord, Jah

What I'm gon' do?

Uh, shhh

Lord, Lord, Jah, shit is all true

Mmmm, fried chicken, fly vixen

Give me heart disease but need you in my kitchen

You a bird but you ain't a key

Got wings but you can't fly away from me

Drivin' in your bucket seats all the way from Kentucky to fuck with me

Look what you done to me, was number one to me

After you shower, you and your gold medal flower

Then you rub your hot oil for 'bout a half an hour

You in your hot tub, I'm lookin' at you salivatin'

Dry you off, I got your paper towel waitin'

Lay you down 'cause you're red hot

Louisiana style, you make my head rock

Then I flop to the bed then plop

When we done I need rest

Don't know what part of you I love best

Your legs or your breasts

Mrs. Fried Chicken, you gon' be a nigga death

Created by Southern black women to serve massive guests

You gon' be a nigga death

Mrs. Fried Chicken, you was my addiction

Drippin' with high cholest'

Like Greeks with his falafel, Italians with his tomato pasta

What roti is to a rasta, trappin' me

You and your friend mac and cheese, candied yams, collard greens

But you knockin' me to my knees

It's killin' me when I'm this high

Nothin' I need more than a fish fry

Shit, it tastes good, I can't lie

It's like you walkin' out the tanning salon

When I pull you out the oven from bakin'

I got you on my mind

Rubbin' that suntan lotion all up over your body

So amazin' how you sparkle when I glaze you, swine

Hey, my pretty ham hock

It's so feminine the way you submitted and how you gave me power

To massage your meat and shower you with lemon water

Marinate you in seasonin', dippin' you in chowder

Baby, it's like you at the spa the way you gently lay in the pan

While enjoying your buttermilk treatment

I sit and watch the grease sizzle, bubblin' on your skin

Despite the funny fragrance, still I lick my finger frequent

In any event

I'm reflectin' on all the signs that I

Got sayin' that I shouldn't fuck with you

But the way that you would taste make you hard to resist

When I put my mouth on you, but that's another issue

Butterflies up in my stomach when I laid eyes on you

Or was it infection manifestin'?

Confused over the feelin'

Impatiently eatin' you, Trakeena Worm

Chewin' on the wall of my intestine

I'ma eat you 'til there's nothin' left

'Til my very last breath

You gon' be a nigga death

Despite I prepare it the best

And specialize in cookin' swine as a chef

You gon' be a nigga death

Who cares if the swine's mixed with rat, cat, and dog combined?

Yes, I'ma eat the shit to death

Ain't that some shit?

I'ma eat some shit until what I'm eatin' kills me

And I choose to do that

Why? 'Cause that's just what niggas do