This is a song about "Up in the kitchen with the pyrex"

Vicious transmission for my vicious ambition

Catch me sitting in the kitchen pitching thoughts for my mission

Aimin' at his partner who know he up next

So being in the kitchen whipping would make sense

The fiction they cookin' in the kitchen, nothing worth finga lickin'

So i can write about my life of sina couple bottles of gin

Pick his fat ass up, and drag that fag into the kitchen

I'm finna break this blunt down and burn me up one

They had a hell of a run

Standing in the kitchen

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

Gime a second, busy cookin greens in the kitchen,

Catch me in the kitchen whippin with a gold pot

Load the glocks they stuntin', we control the block

He’s tha only one

And not in the kitchen