[Intro: Nas]
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Uhh, Lord, Lord, Jah
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What Im gon do?
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Uhh, schhh, Lord, Lord, Jah
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Hahaha, shit is all true
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[Verse 1: Nas]
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Mmm, fried chicken, fly vixen
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Give me heart disease but need you in my kitchen
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You a bird but you aint a ki
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Got wings but you cant fly away from me
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Driving in your bucket seats, all the way from Kentucky to fuck with me
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Look what you done to me, was number one to me
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After you shower, you and your gold medal flour
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Then you rub your hot oil for bout a half an hour
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You in your hot tub, Im looking at you salivating
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Dry you off, I got your paper towel waiting
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Lay you down cause youre red hot
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Louisiana style, you make my head rot
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Then I flock to the bed, then plop, when we done, I need rest
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Dont know what part of you I love best
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Your legs or your breast
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Mrs. Fried Chicken, you gon be a nigga death
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Created by southern black women to serve massa guest
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You gon be a nigga death
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Mrs. Fried Chicken, you was my addiction
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Dripping with high cholest
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Like Greeks with his falafel, Italian with his tomato pasta
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What roti is to a rasta
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Trapping me, you and your friend mac and cheese
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Candy yams, collard greens but you knocking me to my knees
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Its killing me when Im this high, nothing I need more than a fish fry
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[Verse 2: Busta Rhymes]
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Shit, it taste good, I cant lie
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Its like youre walking out the tanning salon
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When I pull you out the oven from baking, I got you on my mind
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Rubbing that sun tan lotion all up over your body
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So amazing how you sparkle when I glaze you, swine
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Hey, my pretty ham hock
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Its so feminine the way you submitted and how you gave me power
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To massaging me to shower you with lemon water
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Marinate you with seasoning, dipping you in chowder
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Baby, its like you at the spa the way you gently lay in the pan
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While enjoying your butter milk treatment
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I sit and watch the grease sizzle, bubbling on your skin
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Despite the funny fragrance, still I lick my finger frequent
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In any event, Im reflecting on all the signs
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That I got saying that I shouldnt fuck with you
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But the way you that you would taste made you hard to resist
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When I put my mouth on you, but thats another issue
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Butterflies up in my stomach when I laid eyes on you
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Or was it infection manifesting?
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Confused over the feeling, impatiently eating you
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Trichina worm chewing on the wall of my intestine
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Im a eat you til theres nothing left
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Until my very last breath, you gon be a nigga death
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Despite I prepare it the best
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And specialize in cooking swine as a chef, you gon be a nigga death
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Who cares if the swines mixed with rat, cat and dog combined?
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Yes, Ima eat the shit to death
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[Outro: Busta Rhymes]
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Aint that some shit?
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Ima eat some shit until what Im eating kills me
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And I choose to do that, why?
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‘Cause thats just what niggas do, hahahahaha
