Fried Chicken

[Intro: Nas]

Uhh, Lord, Lord, Jah

What I'm gon' do?

Uhh, schhh, Lord, Lord, Jah

Hahaha, shit is all true

[Verse 1: Nas]

Mmm, 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 medal flour

Then you rub your hot oil for 'bout 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 gon' be a nigga death

Created by southern black women to serve massa' guest

You gon' be a nigga death

Mrs. Fried Chicken, you was my addiction

Dripping with high cholest'

Like Greeks with his falafel, Italian with his tomato 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 this high, nothing I need more than a fish fry

[Verse 2: Busta Rhymes]

Shit, it taste good, I can't lie

It's like you're walking out the tanning salon

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 ham hock

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, 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 that you would taste made 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 manifesting?

Confused over the feeling, impatiently eating you

Trichina worm chewing on the wall of my intestine

I'ma eat you 'til there's nothing left

Until my very last breath, you gon' be a nigga death

Despite I prepare it the best

And specialize in cooking 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

[Outro: Busta Rhymes]

Ain't that some shit?

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

And I choose to do that, why?

'Cause that's just what niggas do, hahahahaha