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Song Title

Cam'ron - Cookin' Up Lyrics

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Cam’ron – Cookin’ Up Lyrics 

[Verse 1: Cam’Ron]
Red slippers, red robe, red kitchen
Red stove, red pots, one in the head cocked
One the on the feds probe, red stools, red inf
Red floor, your all fakers red couch
Red crystal red pepper and salt shakers
The red room, red curtains, its summer squish
Show some respect what you expect thats a hundred inch
Telescopes binoculars the feds hate my bynacula
From sellin coke im proper docked that means im spectacular
They bitin like tyson, worse than that dracular
Ya moms buy heroin wit no hands im smackin her
Let me make ya plane, since dane to danes I made it rain
Now in the strip club the Benjies turn to paper planes
I’m Killa, you Andre Miller, got a basic game
I told ya bitch to hurry up, we don’t wait for trains
I’m Derek Jeter, cause I’m in between the base my mane
And thats on Lennox, 7 for 8th ace of kings
Silencers on calibers would do it louder bro
Sledge hammer, smash his melon im the black galicka
You know I dump mine on fake niggas one time
Wack bitches, rat snitches, my life’s a punch line
I spend a grip in bars, diamonds studded, vicious cars
Tha hoes, ask Joe, we audition ours
I hope you make the cut, pop ya puss, move ya butt
Ruger up, think we from Houston we done screwed her up

[Chorus x2]
We pitchin’, we pitchin’, friction from mission to mission
Block to block, ave. to ave., from kitchen to Kitchen
We just cookin’ baby, we just cookin up
We just cookin’ up homie, we just cookin’ up

[Verse 2: Cam’Ron]
You don’ sold a bottle, huh, I’m twistin ya cap
And I’m luxury girl come sit on my lap
Her friends like don’t go that shit is a trap
They’ll have you trafficn’ swallowin, shittin smack
They pigeons in fact, how you gonna listen to that
You the fliest one in your crew
Them bitches is wack
Started to smile like you knew this shit was a wrap
Her friends was right tho, she gonna be pitchin some crack
I’m a true champ, you glance, 4 door, two tramps, fuck my money honey
Bring your food stamps, go ahead, you dance
A elephant to you ants
Chain, Alaska, Bracelet, Nebraska, crib, well disaster
42 plasmas, royal blue laurie, shorty you bastard
Only thing I don’t know, what resort we in
I tell a bitch “get over here”, like Scorpion
Cars, order in flavors, you order from avis
Come around me why? They know my ora contagious
And I’m sorta courageous, plus the kid smart
Forget Bizmark, he gonna catch more than them vapors
Next door at your neighbors, they said all of you haters
Set you up the very moment, I offered ‘em paper
In the North I’m the Mayor
And my kicks, University of Florida
Of course they gators

[Repeat chorus]

[Cam’ron – Cookin’ Up Lyrics]


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