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Cookin Up Lyrics

from Crime Pays

"Cookin Up" is track #10 on the album Crime Pays. It was written by John Lee Christopher;cameron Giles;scott Novelli.
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"Cookin Up" is track #10 on the album Crime Pays. It was written by John Lee Christopher;cameron Giles;scott Novelli.
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Red slippers, red robe, red kitchen, red stove
Red pots, one in the head cocked, one the on the feds probe
Red stools, red inf, red floor, your all fakers
Red couch, red crystal, red pepper and salt shakers

The red room, red curtains, it's summer squish
Show some respect, what you expect that's a hundred inch
Telescopes, binoculars, the feds hate my bynacula
From sellin' coke I'm proper docked that means I'm spectacular

They bitin' like Tyson, worse than that dracular
Ya moms buy heroin wit no hands I'm smackin' her
Let me make ya plane, since dane to danes I made it rain
Now in the strip club the Benjies turn to paper planes

I'm lilla, you Andre Miller, got a basic game
I told ya bitch to hurry up, we don't wait for trains
I'm Derek Jeter, 'cause I'm in between the base my mane
And that's on Lennox, 7 for 8th ace of kings

Silencers on calibers would do it louder bro
Sledge hammer, smash his melon I'm the black galicka
You know I dump mine on fake niggas one time
Wack bitches, rat snitches, my life's a punch line

I spend a grip in bars, diamonds studded, vicious cars
Tha hoes, ask Joe, we audition ours
I hope you make the cut, pop ya puss, move ya butt
Ruger up, think we from Houston we done screwed her up

We pitchin', we pitchin', friction from mission to mission
Block to block, ave. to ave., from kitchen to kitchen
We just cookin' up baby, we just cookin' up
We just cookin' up homie, we just cookin' up

We pitchin', we pitchin', friction from mission to mission
Block to block, ave. to ave., from kitchen to kitchen
We just cookin' up baby, we just cookin' up
We just cookin' up homie, we just cookin' up

You don' sold a bottle, huh, I'm twistin' ya cap
And I'm luxury girl, come sit on my lap
Her friends like, don't go that shit is a trap
They'll have you trafficn' swallowin', shittin' smack

They pigeons in fact, how you gonna listen to that?
You the fliest one in your crew, them bitches is wack
Started to smile like you knew this shit was a wrap
Her friends was right tho, she gonna be pitchin' some crack

I'm a true champ, you glance, 4 door, 2 tramps
Fuck my money honey, bring your food stamps
Go ahead, you dance, a elephant to you ants
Chain, Alaska, Bracelet, Nebraska

Crib, well disaster
42 plasmas, royal blue Laurie, shorty you bastard
Only thing I don't know, what resort we in
I tell a bitch, "Get over here", like scorpion

Cars, order in flavors, you order from avis
Come around me why? They know my ora contagious
And I'm sorta courageous, plus the kid smart
Forget Bizmark, he gonna catch more than them vapors

Next door at your neighbors, they said all of you haters
Set you up the very moment, I offered 'em paper
In the North I'm the Mayor and my kicks
The University of Florida, of course they gators

We pitchin', we pitchin', friction from mission to mission
Block to block, ave. to ave., from kitchen to kitchen
We just cookin' up baby, we just cookin' up
We just cookin' up homie, we just cookin' up

We pitchin', we pitchin', friction from mission to mission
Block to block, ave. to ave., from kitchen to kitchen
We just cookin' up baby, we just cookin' up
We just cookin' up homie, we just cookin' up

Songwriters
John Lee Christopher;Cameron Giles;Scott Novelli

Published by
KILLA CAM MUSIC

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