Cook
(Yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uhh
It's that killa crack street music
(It's that Block Royal, Terror Squad music)
Crack, cook
(Joell Ortiz *****)
Listen
(Nobody, what up)

One shot, two shot, three shot, oh, oh
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, ****, ****
That's for the wife and the kids

(I don't care about your money or that **** on your chest)
*****z get killed for less
(And all that **** you be talkin' man we ain't impressed)
*****z get killed for less

Whether, closed caption or high definition
You could probably find me on that big screen, diamonds glistenin'
Ain't this a ***** man? That's Joey from the Bronx
And all the dirt he done, how the ***k he mix the songs *****?

He ain't lyin', I'm a chemist on that table
My needle with the beige make the compe***ion hate you
Couple deaths on the block, now they rate you
Lil' Dex'll pull the trigger if I say shoot

One shot, two shot 'nother ***** down
CSI searchin but his face can't be found *****
**** is crazy on the streets of the Bronx
*****z yellin' 'Shots fired' but police won't respond

Where I'm from *****z pump that b***
And holler at your lil' sister right in front of your face *****
The working man's a sucker you heard, see
*****'s gettin' hot for twenty years, still thirsty

I guess they share a bond with the 'caine
Now that's what I call rekindlin' old flames
Get it? Who else but Coca in the Rover?
Sports kitted, coulda been my 'ghini or my 'rossa

Life is for the living, get a chauffeur
Find yourself a ***** that don't mind eatin' chocha
We spit murder, you's a victim, boy
If that *** get flashy we'll stick ya, boy

One shot, two shot, three shot, oh, oh
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, ****, ****
That's for the wife and the kids

(I don't care about your money or that **** on your chest)
*****z get killed for less
(And all that **** you be talkin' man we ain't impressed)
*****z get killed for less

Nah, so don't die over nothin, let your lil' crew gas ya ***
'Cause on my block I was the Doc, before aftermath
I had that, rock in the spot the fiends had to blast
When I, chopped it with pop and shoot past the gl***

See I really hustle homie, this ain't no fabrication
They never called me back, I filled out many applications
Watchin' these corny *****z come up, that was aggravatin'
So I hit the corner, told 'em beat it like they masturbatin'

I tried to have the patience
I asked God for the answers, he took too long to respond
So I had a chat with Satan
He told me my dreams ain't have to stay imagination
Turned my wrecked Timbs to a stretch Benz for my graduation

Had all the lil' ****s at my prom salivatin'
Scooped my diploma, I'm gone but I kept on calculatin'
Colleges holla cause every grade I had's amazin'
It was school books or cool looks when I p*** with Daytons

Clappin' at plays or hearin' my new Magnum flamin'
Schoolgirls or I'ma earl, look who this *******'s blazin'
Long story short, man I had these ***gots hatin'
I'm handsome, I'm cool, I got guap and I get it crack-a-latin'

I come from the place where you get your hood p***es made in
A brook where the only thing shook's on the stove marinatin'
So when they say congratulations over the respect
My pad is gainin'
Know I ain't goin' back, I'm aimin' like

One shot, two shot, three shot, oh, oh
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, ****, ****
That's for the wife and the kids

(I don't care about your money or that **** on your chest)
*****z get killed for less
(And all that **** you be talkin' man we ain't impressed)
*****z get killed for less

Aww, that's what the ***k I'm talkin' about
That real gangsta music, biatch
Like that ****, you like how that **** sounds *****
Blat