Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fried Chicken, artist - Nas. Album song Nas, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DEF JAM
Song language: English
Fried Chicken |
Hmm… Fried chicken, fly vixen |
Give me heart disease but need you in my kitchen |
You a bird but you ain’t a ki' |
Got wings but you can’t fly away from me Driving 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 metal flour |
Then you rub your hot oil for about a half an hour |
You in your hot tub I’m looking at you salivating |
Dry you off I got your paper towel waiting |
Lay you down cause you’re red hot |
Louisiana style you make my head rot |
Then I flock 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 breast |
Mrs. Fried Chicken, you gonna be a nigga death |
Created by southern black women to serve massa’guest |
You gonna be a nigga death |
Mrs. Fried Chicken you was my addiction |
Dripping with hot cholest- |
Like Greeks with his falafel, Italian with his to-mato pasta |
What roti is to a rasta |
Trapping me; |
You and your friend mac’and cheese |
Candy yams collard greens but you knocking me to my knees |
It’s killing me when I’m inside |
Nothing I need more than a fish fry |
Shit it taste good I can’t lie |
It’s like you’re walking out the tanning saloon |
When I pull you out the oven from baking I got you on my mind |
Rubbing that sun tan lotion all up over your body |
So amazing how you sparkle when I glaze you swine |
Hey my pretty hand hot |
It’s so feminine the way you submitted and how you gave me power |
To massaging me to shower you with lemon water |
Marinate you with seasoning and dipping you in chowder |
Baby it’s like you at the spa the way you gently lay in the pan |
While enjoying your butter milk treatment |
I sit and watch the grease sizzle bubbling on your skin |
Despite the funny fragrance still I lick my finger frequent |
In any event, I’m reflecting on all the signs |
That I got saying that I shouldn’t fuck with you |
But the way you that you would taste made you hard to resist |
When I put my mouth on you but that’s another issue |
But it flies up in my stomach, when I laid eyes on you |
Or was it infection manifesting |
Confused over the feeling, impatiently eating you |
Trichina worm chewing on the wall of my intestine |
I’m a eat you until there’s nothing left |
Until my very last breath, you gonna be a nigga death |
Despite I prepare it the best specialize in cooking swine as a chef |
You gonna be a nigga death |
Who cares if the swine is mixed with rat, cat and dog combined |
Yes, I’m a eat the shit to death |
Ain’t that some shit |
I’m a eat some shit until what I’m eating kills me And I choose to do that, why? |
'Cause that’s just what niggaz do |