This is a song about "Pans in the kitchen"

I'm spending hours in the kitchen cooking up carols

So i guess i’m good naira,yoruba love give em my love

On the top, was my pops, my momma screamin stop

In the kitchen whippin boy stupid hot

In the kitchen digital scales producing the product

The club underwater, have em running out the front

Dressin' down like a villian', but only on the block

Catch me in the kitchen whippin with a gold pot

You say i'm in the kitchen.. cooking up shit to splinter creeps

That you allow me to work it 'til you know what your actual worth means

The mirror's screaming at me saying i'm emmi lola's son

I left him in the room, proceeded to the kitchen.

Catch me sitting in the kitchen pitching thoughts for my mission

I would gasol you niggas, but i'm in no position

To cause gruesome scenes, killed the cat in the kitchen.

I'm fed up, we gotta start teach the children