This is a song about "Cook"

Fish flaying great cook and he ain't even gay

Back in the motherfuckin bay

I'm the butcher, the cook and heart taker

And there's little to be glad for

No matter what i cook i know the fucking recipe,

I'm a g, and this is something you can't see

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

Ok, black panamera, dash on a million

So i proposed that we cook her on a stove,

Best believe i'm leaving with more of those

She couldn't really cook but that woman tried her best

I can only love you when you’re undressed

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

But i'm not worried

We will cook you up and eat,