southern fried lyrics – killer mike

southern fried

[killer mike]
welcome to this country-fied, bonafide
and my flow is sweet as a potato pie
never been a sour apple, i’m a now n’ later guy
i’ma tell her somethin sweet and she gon’ lick me later guy
h*llo to my hater guys
how you doin, sirs? i know you got mean words
but keep them to yo’self, unless those murders will occur
cause i’m from killa kill adamsville
right next door bowen homes and dixie hills
allen temple wildwood and plainsville
these motherf*ckers murder in plain sight
everyday, broad daylight, they ain’t right
sh*t’s loko out in zone 4
since the 80s’ it’s been that way doe
my n*gg* uncle died shootin back at the po-po
he went out, but he ain’t go slow though
even hit the cop back with the fo’-fo’ doe
got buried in a rolex, jordans and a polo
n*gg* died pretty as a pimp in a photo
whoa whoa! yee’n hear fat boi
he ain’t say that boi, don’t e’en try to act boi
that fat black motherf*cker got a way with the words
i’ll tell you he can rap, boi
respect my words like a rabbi
i’m a porterhouse, you a motherf*ckin ribeye
hate on me to your girlfriend, she gon’ look you dead in the eye
and tell ya, “so, muh’f*cker, he still fly!”

ain’t i fresh? ain’t i clean?
ain’t i;m ridin thru the city in the meanest machine?
ain’t i, ain’t i 100? playa fa’ sho
ain’t i slick ’bout pimp game and just might mack on yo’ hoe, ain’t i?
ain’t i fresh? ain’t i clean?
ain’t i’m ridin thru the city in the meanest machine?
ain’t i, ain’t i 100? playa fa’ sho
ain’t i slick ’bout pimp game and just might mack on yo’ hoe, ain’t i?

[killer mike]
so fresh, so clean
rollin down the streets so slow, so sweet
like a cup of, codeine, smo-kin on that, i-rene
wit a sweet country girl named irene, i lean feel-in irie
i be, strapped, to the motherf*ckin t, so please don’t try me
my chevrolet lay b*tt naked on the asphalt flo’ flashin her high beams
and i’m still in the company of irene and we been joined by maxine
we maxin, relaxin, chillin double stackin
and me bein the westside player that i be
i’m tryna see what’s hap’nin, and what’s hap’nin?
mð¹-na-na-nage in my garage
these two young ladies is the reason i (a.d.i.d.a.s)
that’s all day i dream about that s*x scene
you textin, hopin that they call you
i just bbq and call ’em up and say, “hey, fall thru”
and you know it’s shrimp and lobster tails
when they enter the room with lots of players
my potnas young black millionaires
and they all about some mon-ay!
yeah young’n, it’s a double entendre
yee ain’t got to wonder, when you ask larhonda
what she been doin hangin out with shawnna
she tell you, “nuttin, hon-ey!”


[killer mike]
moð»t, 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, hoe! get up off my zipper
you ain’t tryna rip me if you ain’t tryna rip her
we like bun and pimp, b*tch! see we is a duo
this that ball and g sh*t, we don’t need no new hoe
see i got a suave mouth which purchases my (suave house)
this that 2 live crew sh*t, i (rap-a-lot) ’bout new sh*t
this that country rap tunes, southern fried funky sh*t
i am the ant*thesis or opposite of monkey sh*t
and that’s some education for y’all thinkin we unlearned
cause our uncles played that gucci crew and walked around with perms
and we buy them ’95 impalas, paint them b*tches urr-ange
we get (gang starrs) like preem and guru cause respect was (hard to earn)


/ killer mike lyrics