This is a song about "Cook"

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

All you fucking bloggin' faggots yappin' up that extra shit

Look how we going to get out of this cook house

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

Though uncalled for, they gon drop them

Now cook me a meal, gordon

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts

Her body's been paranormal since buying that pair of titties, look

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

And dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the shit

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

But really i'm just caught in the loop, of understanding the truth

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