Tuesday, 1 July 2008

How Many Levels?

Love the beat - real laid back . . but the imagery is the real treasure here.

MP3: Nas - Fried Chicken (Ft. Busta Rhymes) (Prod. Mark Ronson)

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 f**k with me
Look what you've done to me?
You Was number one to me!
After you shower
You and your gold medal flour
Then you rub on your hot oil for 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 a part of you I love best
Your legs or your breast
Misses Fried Chicken, you gon be a nigga's death
Created by southern black women
To serve massa, guest
You gon be a nigga's death
Misses Fried Chicken
You was my addiction
Dripping wet hot, cholest
Like Greeks with their (filafo?)
Or Italians with their to-mato
Or roach is to it's roaster
Trapping me
You and your friend mac and cheese
(Candians?) and collard greens
Cut you knocking me to my knees
Was killing me when I miss, ah
Nothing I need more than a fish fry

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