Cookin’ Up

Lyrics
Red slippers, red robe, red kitchenRed stove, red pots, one in the head cockedOne the on the feds probe, red stools, red infRed floor, your all fakers red couchRed crystal red pepper and salt shakersThe red room, red curtains, its summer squish Show some respect what you expect thats a hundred inch Telescopes binoculars the feds hate my vernacular From sellin coke im proper docked that means im spectacular They bitin like tyson, worse than that dracula Ya moms buy heroin wit no hands im smackin her Let me make it plain, since Dana Dane I made it rain Now in the strip club the Benjies turn to paper planes I'm Killa, 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 thats on Lennox, 7 for 8th ace of kings Silencers on calibers would do it louder bro Sledge hammer, smash his melon im the black Gallagher 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 (Chorus x2) We pitchin', we pitchin', friction from mission to mission Block to block, ave. to ave., from kitchen to Kitchen We just cookin' baby, we just cookin up We just cookin' up homie, we just cookin' up [Verse 2] 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 traffickin' swallowin', shittin' smack They pigeons in fact, how you gonna listen to thatYou the fliest one in your crewThem 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, two 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 mauris, 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 aura 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, University of FloridaOf course they gators (Repeat chorus)
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Credits
- Writers
- Cam’ron
- Producers
- NovaBeatz
- I.N.F.O
- Engineer
- Skitzo
- Mixing Engineer
- Eric “Ibo” Butler
- Mike Nyto
- Rekbeats
- Mastering Engineer
- The Phantom (Engineer)