Lyrics:
the fuck up dead
'cause I'm servin' more chickens than Foghorn Leg
Feds want to know where a nigga reside
'cause the nuggets I'm sellin' ain't Kentucky
at the function
Off the shit, I can't een function
Bitch I'm Ill Leet 'cause I run shit
Shoulda never let me out the dungeon
Shoulda never told me I was nothin'
Now
my chicken with no bones
Thugging on this harmony
Grilled, fried, however cooked
Chicken my philosophy
Games do nothing but add more violence
When I
curry please, yeah
er, chicken tikka massala, er, 4....4 pila...pilau rice's
(background - can i ave a naan bread)
aw fukin 'ell..we gotta, fukin.. naan
If you choose me to pick 'em it's chicken
I'm not punting, I'm sticking if it's in the kitchen
KFC you there it's finger licking good
Double down -
bass we order oysters
Black De-Vosses, four door porsches
Humidors more moisture, no moissanites
Breitlings, Hublots, watchmen
Essentially no diamonds
face? No case
Drug deals easy, more booze is lookin' like space
Jean Paul Gaultier, see-through Jamaican tank top
Hopped out the two-tone, Lord, made
Yo Fatboy, yo Fatboy, guess what kid
Yo dude
Don't come in my room without knockin'
Son I'm sayin' yo
Niggas just smoked Woody around
The corner kid
I'm still in the bitch
I was in a blur, but I'm walking out fixed
Think it's my turn and these niggas get pissed
Think a nigga chicken, think a nigga
I'm on my Ariana grind-
De, I got that yay, I got that ladidadida
And a kamikaze squad, and you chicken Parmesan
Lord I'm a free man like I come from
bulls-eye i stunt growth and stop lives
and you run with niggaz that's more chicken than pot pie *chicken noises*
im shaking your tail feathers, i got big
to jack and in the Bay it never stops
But my hollow tips will leave more scars than the chicken pox
Or run up ya like Emmitt
Hitting like Bonds
breaker
Large tray full of shots like a bar waiter
Kamehameha, bar layer after bar layer
The chicken getting plucked if I pick 'em
I'm a guitar player like
for toasty snacks
Right after a cozy supper
Either that or I smoked too much marijuana last summer
To avoid the drama, shit
But he don't fly in mi casa
you want war with the gang
I'm bringing em' more of the pain
Bringing more of the pain (Bitch)
He can get smoked like a strain
West Coast, blowing
ride
Loon all smoked up, Meeno want to rob you
J might feel you, Hud want to kill you
Mase want to let it slide, Stase want to get you high
score
And with each new play, you're aiming for more
From the cut to the deal, and the pegging to the crib
Cribbage is a game that you'll never beat me in
through and get smoked like a Cuban cigar
[Chorus]
I'm from Compton, Compton, a block from hell
And you can come get a bird for eleven
And we ain't
just like a little bite
He wants some more wet chicken
It tastes the same, tastes the same
It tastes the same, tastes the same
It tastes the same,
why you wanna die?
I know where you reside right there on the East Side
Street wise, I don't just roll alone we ride
Loon all smoked up, Meeno wanna
need sum more reefa
And my lil Iphone connected to my beeper
Smoked out shooting out the lil 2 seater
I done ran me up sum money til the boy broke
and a chicken bone Gas, girl weed and the lean
Baby just hit my phone, more than 5,000 worth of Beads
I know my blessings strong
Yo bitch on my dick, she a thot
at the shooting range just 'cause practice makes perferct
Bullseye, I stunt growth and stop lives
You run with niggas that's more chicken then pot pies
Bok bok
at the shooting range just 'cause practice makes perferct
Bullseye, I stunt growth and stop lives
You run with niggas that's more chicken then pot pies
Bok bok
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