Tragic B - Interlude (Fresh Fried)

(Ya, ya, ya, ya)
(Yeah yeah)
(Ya, ya, ya, ya)
(Oh)
(What)
(Okay)
(Word up)

Never catch me throwin' shade
Never catch me throwin' back that hater-ade (Word) (Yeah)
Maybe catch me gettin' paid (Okay)
Maybe catch me bein' yo bitch's problem fave
Why you lookin' at me funny, bitch (That's right)
I'm self-conscious of my tummy, bitch (That's right)
What
Yeah, fuck around and find out why all the bitches love to hug me, bitch
What

Yeah, I got a lotta flavor and I got a lotta feelin's, dawg
But that doesn't mean that I know what I'm gonna say, nah
I just made up this hook, I ain't readin' off no books, yeah
She be givin' me looks, I'm a show her how I cook, yeah
Fresh fried, in the kitchen
Bitch says I'm finger lickin' (Whoo)
What
And I don't know what I'm spittin'
I'm Funkadelic, you can call me George Clinton (Okay)

Written by:
Travis Bazanele

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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