This is a song about "Cook"

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,

I wear green hats because i'm fortunately lucky

You make a nigga's night turn day

Fish flaying great cook and he ain't even gay

I make my old bitch buy me all the latest shoes

Goin' ham in beef it's raw, i cook it up with twisted news,

Look how we going to get out of this cook house

So it’s more for me, she invited me in her mouth

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

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

Last of a dying breed

We will cook you up and eat,

Cook a verse send it out hardly a look

And that’s a scary thing, i try to duck em good