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Cookin Up Lyrics

The song Cookin Up is performed by Cam'ron in the album named Crime Pays in the year 2009 .

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[Verse 1]

Red slippers, Red robe,
Red kitchen, Red stove, Red pots,
One in the head cocked, When the Feds probe,
Red stools, Red emph, Red floors, Y'all fakers,
Red couch, Red crystal, Red pepper and salt shakers,
The red room, Red curtains, and some are switched,
Show some respect, What you expect - that's a hundred inch,
Telescopes, Binoculars, the Feds hate my vernacular,
From selling coke, I'm poppa doc, Yeah that means I'm spectacular,
They bitin' like Tyson, Worse than that Dracula,
Your Mom's buy heroin, With no hands, I'm smacking her,
Let me make it plain, Since Dana Dane, I made it rain,
Now in the strip club, the benji's turn to paper planes,
I'm Killa, You Andre Miller, Got a basic game,
I told your bitch you hurry up, We don't wait for trains,
I'm Derek Jeter cause I'm in between the base my mane,
And that's on Lenox, 7th for 8th, Ace of kanes,
Silencers on calibers, But do it louder bro,
Sledgehammers, Smash his melon, and I'm the black Gallagher,
You know I dump mine, On fake niggas-one time,
Wack bitches, Rat snitches, My life's a punchline,
I spend in grip in bars, Diamond studded, Vicious cars,
The hoes, Ask Joe, We audition ours,
I hope you make the cut, Pop ya puss, Move ya butt,
Ruga up, Think we from Houston, We done screwed her up,

[Chorus] (X2)

We pitchin' and pitchin', Friction from mission to mission
Block to block, Ave. to Ave, From kitchen to kitchen,
We just cookin' up baby, we just cookin' up,
We just cookin' up homie, we just cookin' up,

[Verse 2]

You the soda bottle, huh-I'm twistin' your cap, (faggot)
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 trafficin', 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, and knew that this shit was a wrap,
Her friends was right though, She gon' be pitchin' some crack,
I'm a true champ, You glance, Four door, two tramps,
f**k 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 Maury's, Shorty you bastard,
Only thing I don't know, What resort we in,
I tell her: "Bitch, Get over here"-like Scorpion,
Cars, Order in flavors,
You order from Avis?
Come around me, Why?, They know my aura contagious,
and I'm sort of courageous, Plus the kids smart,
Forget Biz Mark, He gonna catch more than the vapors,
Next door at your neighbors, They said all of you haters,
Set ya up the very moment I offer them paper,
And the law from the Mayor, And my kicks-
The University of Florida, Of course they Gator,

[Chorus] (X2)

We pitchin' and pitchin', Friction from mission to mission
Block to block, Ave. to Ave, From kitchen to kitchen,
We just cookin' up baby, we just cookin' up,
We just cookin' up homie, we just cookin' up,



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Cam'ron - Crime Pays