Cook Up - Pressa

Them niggas funny, huh?

Saint Laurent, What’s them niggas on?

Hella large

Small circle don’t do hexagons

Cookie Jar, I need that bread, I need that croissant

What you want?

I’m sellin' shit, just like Uncle Toms

30 Glock, on my waist, my pants’ll never sag

50 bags, catch me in my head he got a tag

38, in my pocket I better never jam

Mercedes Benz, came with sensors better never crash

He be calling up my name, but he ain’t name brand

Cook up dope and shoot a nigga, with the same hand

He’s just sitting on his money, post the same bandz

So I go in for my bros, I got the same dad

I heard you mad well here’s a cape, go be superman

lost her son and now she super sad

Feel like we bring back the dead the way we bouncin' back

My niggas grab the knife, soon as the cells are crack

And girls who used to diss, they like my boomerang

Niggas know we winnin' you could check the stacks

Louie bag, Chanel Bag, she just want a nigga that

Can buy that

Them niggas funny, huh?

Saint Laurent, What’s them niggas on?

Hella large

Small circle don’t do hexagons

Cookie Jar, I need that bread, I need that croissant

What you want?

I’m sellin' shit, just like Uncle Toms

30 Glock, on my waist, my pants’ll never fall

50 bags, catch me in my hood he got a tag

38, in my pocket I better never jam

Mercedes Benz, came with sensors better never crash

Wassi shit, wassi shit, we so wassi bitch

40 Glock, skinny nigga, but it fit my ribs

Hit em up, niggas talking like they with the shits

Bitch niggas, he get caught and now he explainin' shit

Rainy days, fishy whip, and we slide, we drift

Lil' nigga, stash his gun I got a rusty fit

Fam please don’t trip, fuck around get the surgeon

Diamonds lit, piece look like a pyramid

Clip so long, clip so long, clip look like a mile

And the feds, they got my name on file

Cookin' dope, sellin' dope, where they pay the most?

In the scope, call my phone, and it’s a trap phone

Them niggas funny, huh?

Saint Laurent, What’s them niggas on?

Hella large

Small circle don’t do hexagons

Cookie Jar, I need that bread, i need that croissant

What you want?

I’m sellin' shit, just like Uncle Toms

30 Glock, on my waist, my pants’ll never fall

50 bags, catch me in my hood he got a tag

38, in my pocket I better never jam

Mercedes Benz, came with sensors better never crash