This is a song about "Tori cook"

Fistful of wood, twisted for the good

Cook a verse send it out hardly a look

Hold on you can see my vision

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

Who baby momma's a rat, and who got killed last weekend

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

Back down, before i cook you like rice.

We ain't buying cds, we striving to live

To mcs that don't rhyme good

She even said she can cook!

I smoke the greenest of medicine till the government let us win

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

I’m smoother than alopecia skin

To quick, show 'em to tha cook, hearion' them sayin'