I have this Grill stuck in my heart
I love you Fried Chicken,
You have to go away
But you're so finger licking good, I want you to stay
I search for my Grapedrink, through dirt, dust and mold
Without my Fried Chicken, I am feeling so old
My negro heart is beating, as I dance on this floor, the Grapedrink eludes me
Oh how I wish it pour, from the skies to my door, but that only happens, in old negro lore
Unless I can find my Grapedrink, my Fried Chicken and all;
I should never again be happy, this man whose named Jamal
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