This is a song about "Cook"

Though i know a couple niggas tryna hem my long jeans joe

I'm tired of mcdonalds, want a chick that cook chicano

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

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

They down to do it all, i call 'em us open

I’m picturing that body like a camera phone would

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

See i can only love you when you undressed

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

She in colors and shit, she off that northern lights, right

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

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

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

Fetching my dick almost as quick as they cook and they clean dishes

Cause i walk around with pockets that are bigger than my bus