Cookin' Keys (Feat. Doap Nixon, Des Devious, Outerspace, Demoz, Reef The Lost Cauze)
I'm in the kitchen cooking up bananas Cameras on the roofs with the police scanners By any means I'm a get these papers Ride with a nigga or catch these vapours Smooth melodic, cool water with butters on Got beef with a nigga, save that for another song Paz on point so he putting his brothers on Steez still the same, get you murked by a gutter john Head in the streets cause the whip is spacious Benz stretched out legs feel like a spaceship Cheques ain't clear, I'm hitting y'all with the facts If the cheque never came I'd hit your mom and a cap Got the streets on smash, key notes on wax Hundred pack on iTunes trying to make cream back Yeah, the key's cooked and the bricks is stovetop It's Chef Boyardee flipping nicks on your whole block
Yeah, born in the coldest winter, live and I die a sinner And while I'm here I'm hustling, get paper with my niggas Last of a dying breed, Pharaoh clique in your section Before I leave my rest, kiss my wiz, load my weapon Yeah that's my right hand man, that fifty cal chrome Off-safety when I roam, I ain't never alone Won't catch a nigga slipping, won't catch a nigga dipping Cause I done mastered my high, you out your mind tripping Yeah you can come and try, won't be the smartest move My bitch Hustler, a son of one, bitch I'm a son of one My money it got right, copped me another gun
These punk bitches get the bozak the gas face I feel like Earnhardt in his last race This last lap in this game, I'm a hit the throttle Syze, we celebrate new life, hit this bottle Plan, I think the situation's getting hairy We make them say the Our Father and their Hail Mary Scary how niggas turn Judas, no trust I take it back to 5-6 when it was only us Snakes slither in the grass in the killing field So I manoeuvre through them by sitting in a bigger wheel You's a small time hustler, I'm a bigger deal And that shit you spit will be the shit that get you killed Ready for war, I'm in it for the long haul Throwing a molotov sidearm Yeah, holding my fort with my pipes drawn I kill everything when this mic's on, believe it
Yo f-u-c-k-f-b-I cops, you niggas don't like my shit I tell them niggas suck a dirty dick with gonorrhea on the tip I'm getting money courtesy of your bitch Nigga it's the Army Of The Pharaohs, we hood American Idols You don't like us? You can suck my dick Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com I got a long rope and an oxy if you feeling suicidal See that window? Hop out that bitch
Nigga think you can ease it then be it but see me not I'm too heated and weeded to lose it so please be hot They just fiending to be the most conceited team on the top I'm leaning to be the most meanest as Biggie and Pac Man these demons is dreaming It's easy to see they just want to be me cause I'm hot So fuck my theme and my plot, smoking weed in your And fall dummy to that casket cause they eat at you pop You can believe it or not, I done sold weed to a cop Caught a case, banged it and ran back to the fiends on my block Fiends on my block? That's logical, my flow is phenomenal I put a couple dots on your block like dominoes Red beaming them, I stay with my team and them I keep four nines in the tuck like Steve and them This my track, a diss like that Cause when you shoot like a freethrow you miss like Shaq
I'm from Killadel county, the killers they all surround me I'm losing my nigga slowly Poppa Large make him proud of me If you see Nemi then tell your people to see me I'm here for the take and holding these streets down, believe me My nigga Balo, I know your halo is platinum I'm a see you at the gates, I'll be rocking something ravishing The Seven Sacraments made for the sacrificial The baptismal of rap bristle to sacramental