(feat. Busta Rhymes)

		

		What I'm gonna do? Shit is all true



[Nas]

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



[Busta Rhymes]

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