This is a song about "Cook"

So i proposed that we cook her on a stove,

The flow cold as a shoulder of a gold diggin hoes

For petty sake not even heavyweight, it's never good

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

Fish flaying great cook and he ain't even gay

And she gon let it loose, hey

Look how we going to get out of this cook house

To read for seven pounds, you must release several pounds

Gliding through the skies as the slow minds wander

We'll cook ya for lunch and serve you at red lobster,

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

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

This my zombie circus, you better get a fuckin' ticket

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

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,