This is a song about "Cook"

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

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

I moved you up to hills, out the ills of the ghetto hood

Thank god for the free thinkers, for you keep me in mind

Ill boil your insides and cook you alive, oxygen deprived,

She couldn't really cook but that woman tried her best

Box logo on my muthafuckin' chest

Using shards to cook others from broken lyrics i shattered.

Caramel macchiatos when shawty get into work

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

Don’t gotta shop, i ain't paying for shit

Hit the green like running backs with no yards

Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,

Barbed wire got a barricade on your destiny