lyrics Cam'Ron - Cookin' Up - Lyrics besedilo pesmi
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Artist/Band: Cam'Ron
Lyrics for Song: Cookin' Up
Lyrics for Album: Crime Pays [2009]



[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]


Album Lyrics: Crime Pays [2009]


Cam'Ron
"Crime Pays [2009]"


1. Crime Pays Intro
2. Cookin' Up
3. Where I Know You From
4. Never Ever
5. Curve
6. Silky (No Homo)
7. Get It In Ohio
8. Who
9. Spend The Night
10. Woo Hoo
11. Chalupa
12. Cookies-N-Apple Juice
13. My Job
14. Homicide
15. Got It For Cheap
16. Bottom Of The Pussy
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