This is a song about "Cook"

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

Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts

All on the furniture with no regards

Check me i be jumping out the coupe, swagger through the roof

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

I'll touch slap her, dap her, plus clap her

But she's a good cook and supporter

She even said she can cook!

My bitches fuck me good

We will cook you up and eat,

No days off and i ain't gettin’ sleep

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,

You got ben's arranged money, have a benz or range money

To quick, show 'em to tha cook, hearion' them sayin'

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin