This is a song about "Cook"

Fish flaying great cook and he ain't even gay

She say all men treat her wrong way

I don't know defeat

We will cook you up and eat,

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

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

So i proposed that we cook her on a stove,

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

Box logo on my muthafuckin' chest

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

Using shards to cook others from broken lyrics i shattered.

Then i redecorated, that mean my tables turned

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

Hard to move on when you always regret one

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

Signing off brother ali, sincerely yours