I’m chillin with my chickens, that’s the way that I be kicking, no bars no clubs just in the chicken coop all posted up. ⸻ Twenty-five birds in the yard, yeah they vibin’, All different breeds in the squad, no dividers. Ayam Cemani lookin’ goth like a shadow in the daylight, Plymouth Rock struttin’ like he ready for a cage fight. Silver laced Wyandotte glitter when the sun hits, White Leghorn posted lookin’ bored like she done this. Ghost zombies lurkin’ like they came from a grave site, Cardigan the chicken actin’ boss — yeah, stage lights. ⸻ They don’t need no club, no drinkin’, no stuntin’, Scratchin’ in the dirt like they know that we runnin’. Country side chill but the beat still bumpin’, Turkey Bandit in the back gobblin’ like nothin’. ⸻ I’m chillin with my chickens, that’s the way that I be kicking, no bars no clubs just in the chicken coop all posted up. I’m chillin with my chickens, yeah the flock be finger-lickin’ (ayy), we don’t chase no scene, we just live that bird life clean. ⸻ Wake up, feed ’em, let ’em roam — that’s the routine, Chickens lookin’ boujee in the yard like a photoscene. Bandit the turkey got swagger like a showpiece, Gobble on the beat like he tryna do a flow piece. The hens gossip and the roosters make announcements, Feathers in the air lookin’ bright like confetti fountains. Neighbors roll by think we runnin’ a convention, But it’s just poultry livin’ life with no tension. ⸻ Cluck-cluck-cluck with the bass turned up, Gobble-gobble-gobble mix it in the dub, Feathers in the wind while the beat goes nuts, We ain’t in no club — this the coop turnt up! ⸻ I’m chillin with my chickens, that’s the way that I be kicking, no bars no clubs just in the chicken coop all posted up. Chillin’ with my chickens, yeah my yard be finger-lickin’, One turkey named Bandit, twenty-five hens and we all just kickin’.
