This is a song about "Cook"

And they'll forever out ya, that's why you always quiet

Stir the beef up in a pot, it's hot, cook it up and sell it,

The little engine that could, this little nigga is good

This aint a song its a warnin to brooke, hogan and david cook

You claim you a thug crook a drug cook you ain't it

Give it to these broads,imake em soar back and all that

Flyer than the rest of them

Now cook me a meal, gordon

Back down, before i cook you like rice.

Picture me lettin this chump survive

Cook up and run where i'm from, the south son,

Riding around without a fuck given

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,

Different chef, same pot bro, not guianese buddy