This is a song about "Cook"

I'm looking for a girl to wash, cook, clean and sew

Annihilatin' those, i'm rakin' but makin' dough

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

Cold, my style making my nose run

Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts

Hit the green like running backs with no yards

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

She even said she can cook!

Skinny jeans, but a nigger still hood

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

The best journeyacres of land and swimming pools and all that

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,

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