This is a song about "Cook"

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

Rollin’ and chokin’ and movin’ slow motion, i’m floatin' on good

Got them bomb ass drugs cause i follow all the cook books

Tell the homies i'm in heaven and they ain't got hoods

I got a thousand bitches, i'm not too good with vows

Look how we going to get out of this cook house

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

Locked down in tha penitentiaryfinally lose my mind

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

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

So pun... it's no new shit and it ain't no fun

There's nothin' like where i come from

Now cook me a meal, gordon