This is a song about "Cook"

You claim you a thug crook a drug cook you ain't it

In that 09' range while i'm singing old tre shit

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

You wonder how it feels to walk a mile inside tha shoes

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

But i'm sorry for the damage i have done

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

To read for seven pounds, you must release several pounds

Look how we going to get out of this cook house

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

But you niggas too weak, but just give me 2 weeks and i'm good

Fish flaying great cook and he ain't even gay

And i got 'em every day, every day