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Southern Fried
Killer Mike
[Verse 1]
Welcome to this country fried bonafide
And my flow is sweet as a potato pie
Never been a sour apple, I'm a now-or-later guy
I'mma tell her something sweet and she gon' lick me later, guy
Hello to my hater guy, how you doing sir
I know you got mean words
But keep them to yourself unless those murders will occur
Cause I'm from killa kill Adamsville right next door
Bowen Homes and Dixie Hills, Allen Temple Wildwood and Plainville
These motherfuckers murder here in plain sight
Everyday broad daylight, they ain't right
Shit's loco out in Zone 4
Since the '80s it's been that way though
My nigga uncle died shooting back at the po-po
He went out but he ain't go slow though
Even hit the cop back with the 4-4 though
Got buried in the Rolex, Jordans and a Polo
Nigga died pretty as a pimp in a photo
Woah-Woah-- Yeen heard fat boy
He ain't say that boy, don't even try to act, boy
That fat black motherfucker got a way with the words
I tell you, he can rap, boy
Respect my words like a rabbi
I'm a porterhouse, you a motherfucking ribeye
Hate on me to your girlfriend, she gonna look you dead eye
Tell you "So? Motherfucker he still fly."
[Hook]
Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean?
Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine?
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I one-hundred player for sure
Ain't I slick bout pimp game and just might mack on your ho
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean?
Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine?
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I one-hundred player for sure
Ain't I sleep my pimp game and just might mack on your ho
(Ain't I??)
[Verse 2]
So fresh, so clean, rolling down the street so slow, so sweet
Like a cup of codeine. Smoking on that Irene
With a sweet country girl named Irene
I lean, Feeling irie, I be
Strapped to the motherfucking T so please don't try me
My Chevrolet lay butt naked on the asphault slow flashing her high beams
And I'm still in the company of Irene and we been joined by Maxine
We maxing, relaxing, chilling, double-stacking
And me being the West Side player that I be I'm trying to see what's happening
And what's happening? But not menage, in my garage
With these two young ladies, is the reason I I-dee-daz
That's "All Day I Dream About" That sexing
You texting, hoping that they call you
I just barbecue and call 'em up and say "Hey fall through"
You know it's shrimp and lobster tails
And they into a room with lots of players
My partners young black millionaires, and they all about some money
Yeah youngin it's a double entendre, you ain't gotta wonder when you ask for Wanda
"What you been doing?" "Hanging out with Shawnna." Yeah, you nuttin' honey
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
Moet? Rolex. Big Benz, no flex
Wedding ring on finger, I married a Trina
Pretty as a singer, Fine as a stripper
When we in the strip club strippers try to tip her
I don't want no dance, ho, get up off my zipper
You ain't try to rip me if you ain't try to rip her
We like Bun and Pimp bitch, see we is a duo
This that Ball and J shit, we don't need no new ho
See I've got a suave mouth which purchases my suave house
This that 2Live Crew Shit, I rap a lot about new shit
This that country rap tune southern fried funky shit
I am the antithesis or opposite of monkey shit
And that's some education for ya'll thinking we unlearned
Cause I often play that Gucci crew and walk around with perms
And we bought them '95 Impalas paint them bitches orange
We gang-stars like Preem and Guru cause respect was hard to earn
[Hook]
compositores: Michael Render, Jaime Meline
Welcome to this country fried bonafide
And my flow is sweet as a potato pie
Never been a sour apple, I'm a now-or-later guy
I'mma tell her something sweet and she gon' lick me later, guy
Hello to my hater guy, how you doing sir
I know you got mean words
But keep them to yourself unless those murders will occur
Cause I'm from killa kill Adamsville right next door
Bowen Homes and Dixie Hills, Allen Temple Wildwood and Plainville
These motherfuckers murder here in plain sight
Everyday broad daylight, they ain't right
Shit's loco out in Zone 4
Since the '80s it's been that way though
My nigga uncle died shooting back at the po-po
He went out but he ain't go slow though
Even hit the cop back with the 4-4 though
Got buried in the Rolex, Jordans and a Polo
Nigga died pretty as a pimp in a photo
Woah-Woah-- Yeen heard fat boy
He ain't say that boy, don't even try to act, boy
That fat black motherfucker got a way with the words
I tell you, he can rap, boy
Respect my words like a rabbi
I'm a porterhouse, you a motherfucking ribeye
Hate on me to your girlfriend, she gonna look you dead eye
Tell you "So? Motherfucker he still fly."
[Hook]
Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean?
Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine?
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I one-hundred player for sure
Ain't I slick bout pimp game and just might mack on your ho
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I fresh, Ain't I clean?
Ain't I riding through the city in the meanest machine?
(Ain't I??)
Ain't I one-hundred player for sure
Ain't I sleep my pimp game and just might mack on your ho
(Ain't I??)
[Verse 2]
So fresh, so clean, rolling down the street so slow, so sweet
Like a cup of codeine. Smoking on that Irene
With a sweet country girl named Irene
I lean, Feeling irie, I be
Strapped to the motherfucking T so please don't try me
My Chevrolet lay butt naked on the asphault slow flashing her high beams
And I'm still in the company of Irene and we been joined by Maxine
We maxing, relaxing, chilling, double-stacking
And me being the West Side player that I be I'm trying to see what's happening
And what's happening? But not menage, in my garage
With these two young ladies, is the reason I I-dee-daz
That's "All Day I Dream About" That sexing
You texting, hoping that they call you
I just barbecue and call 'em up and say "Hey fall through"
You know it's shrimp and lobster tails
And they into a room with lots of players
My partners young black millionaires, and they all about some money
Yeah youngin it's a double entendre, you ain't gotta wonder when you ask for Wanda
"What you been doing?" "Hanging out with Shawnna." Yeah, you nuttin' honey
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
Moet? Rolex. Big Benz, no flex
Wedding ring on finger, I married a Trina
Pretty as a singer, Fine as a stripper
When we in the strip club strippers try to tip her
I don't want no dance, ho, get up off my zipper
You ain't try to rip me if you ain't try to rip her
We like Bun and Pimp bitch, see we is a duo
This that Ball and J shit, we don't need no new ho
See I've got a suave mouth which purchases my suave house
This that 2Live Crew Shit, I rap a lot about new shit
This that country rap tune southern fried funky shit
I am the antithesis or opposite of monkey shit
And that's some education for ya'll thinking we unlearned
Cause I often play that Gucci crew and walk around with perms
And we bought them '95 Impalas paint them bitches orange
We gang-stars like Preem and Guru cause respect was hard to earn
[Hook]
compositores: Michael Render, Jaime Meline
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