Vanilla Bizcotti - Flippin' Chickn' Lyrics

I be up in the kitchen
I be cooking the chicken
I be flipping the shrimp and
I got your bitch, and she coming

She got a phat ass, it makes me want to go to class
Bitches she calling me, up on the tele

I be washing my hands, and I got no plans
Gonna drive my car, gonna go really far
Spending all this money
On all the hot hunnys

She got a phat ass, and a mini skirt
I'm looking at her ass, her titties and it really hurts

I be up in the kitchen
These bitches, they be good looking
I got the money in my hands
Gonna make you understand
I'm the best in this rap game
You can't compare to me

You hear this clap
It makes you want to dance

Rolling up blunts, fat
With a gun in my hand
I'll do a drive-by bitch
Leave you in a ditch
Bleeding out
I don't give a f*ck
I run this hood, and I'm really good
When I shoot my guns
I'll hit you in the face
I don't care, then I'll take your bitch and go to my place
We be cooking the crack, up in my pots
Then we be smoking, lots of the pots

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken, like I flipped the script
Can't compare to me, I'm a different script
I don't even follow what I have to say, I just a freestyle everyday
I practice in the mirror what I'm gonna say, and I have no rhythm
That's ok, because I don't need them
I'm the best in this game
You all can go away
When it comes to this mumble shit, I'm the best of this mumble shit
You can't compare to me
I just practice every day
I sound like I have a mouthful of dick

Bitches call me the man, and they're holding my hand
Pull down the mini skirts, and I wanna hit it

Doesn't even have to rhyme, that's ok
This song doesn't rhyme, all of the time

I'm up in the kitchen
Washing my hands from the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken

I be flipping the chicken
I be flipping the chicken