Cooking

Pharoahe Monch, Royce da 5′9′′, Mr. Porter

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(Cooking!) Hey! (Cooking!) Hey! (Cooking!) Hey! (Cooking!) Hey! I said, "Made niggas, got maids, serving broads on trays" Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Barbecue on fire, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Yup, yup, yeah, yeah yeah, yeah! I-I-I showed ya how to stunt (Yeah!), I turned you into a pimp (Yeah!?) My whole hood here, it's been a good year, my bank account's on blimp! Your girl said, she want my cock, I told you she ain't talkin' 'about no shrimp Nigga, everything in my notebook dope, it's like I'm writing on hemp Out of this world, comes a good ho, said she won't gag, bet she won't choke Call me anything, but don't call me broke, I'll rock him bitch, "I Ain't No Joke" Sheeeeeit, don't believe? Just forget it, you're so pathetic, yes I said it Equifax nigga, check your credit, or ask Doc. Dre, he can settle it The way I fold your weed, I been dope, my kinfolk, is like En' Vogue Never get the feeling that I invoke, I'm coming for mine, plus tenfold Big bill bars, got a nigga sitting pretty, Ms. Info and if you don't like You ain't gotta wonder, what I'm doing in your city, [?], or spread your titties Double D's? (Yeah!) Double these, man go, you don't want no trouble please Look, every time you rap? - Tumbleweed, look, every time I rap? One of these Ladies, shoot they shot, they show me what they think I'm missing Shit, if you can't stand the heat, then get THE HELL UP OUT MY KITCHEN! (AWGH!) CAUSE I'M COOKING! I said, "Made niggas, got maids, serving broads on trays" Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Barbecue on fire, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) I give the people more than (what they asking for) Me and my niggas (got cash to blow) Why I gotta be (the best rapper fo'?) When my whole team rap better than yours I'mma take that as a compliment (Yeah!?) I'm the new rapper apocalypse (Yeah!) This is the end of the world, as you know it, attack and Hip-Hop is the populace Bitches is workin' it, poppin' it, guns in the video not as the prop Cause, when they shoot me I'm poppin' it (POP-POP-POP!), I'm not relevant Or irrelevant, I'm more like reverend, even when they rebuke me, I'm profiting (Prophet-and) I may mislead to you think, that I don't roll differently than this hoopty, I'm hopping in Po-po behind me, and I already made up my mind, I won't go for no homi' Therefore, anything that you could put on paper, my lawyers will take, and twist into origami Whip on Ashanti, I just broke up with the chick in your dreams Sold on out on me, though I wish her well, she's someone I wouldn't wish on nobody Trapping to me and, trapping to you, is two different things, I'm from the era of cracking And shoeing, hoping your mama don't vacuum, selling niggas old school, like Patrick Ewing Anybody ask what you doing, when you got the shotty on you Telling that you dumber, catch a body, like you're trafficking humans With the outlook of a chef, looking at the loss I said, "Made niggas, got maids, serving broads on trays" Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Barbecue on fire, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) I give the people more than (what they asking for) Me and my niggas (got cash to blow) Why I gotta be (the best rapper fo'?) When my whole team rap better than yours Laughing in the background, when I'm asking them, addicting faces, then I'm firing - Backwards with a Mac-10, in the back of they head, and they grow a windmill and a backspin (Go!) Plus a nigga got stars in his Iris, and they got more bars than the Irish In the Ireland, with the Irish accent, never slip, I will never lose traction Speak the truth, or bring the light, reach and touchin' the youth, like Mike Jackson! (AAAAAAAAAAGH!) Psycho wanna chase, for the late night action - Standing ovations, when the hook stand up, yeah, they might start clapping And I still got a backpack, but I catch stacks, stacks - Like the industry whore, of tracks that I rap on fast, with a mute and closed captions I'mma speed it with a passion, but I got a little itty bitty question, I'm asking Would you find it easier to pass an exam, if you were created in a test tube Do Crips watch True Blood Do Bloods fly jet blue Fuck it, drop it, pop it, shake it, like a Genie in a bottle Lap dance, gimme that laptop, get it We go back, surround 'em I said, "Made niggas, got maids, serving broads on trays" Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Barbecue on fire, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!) Me and my niggas got bars, we (Cooking!)