Cook It Up Lyrics

"Yo that movie sucks "
"Bull shit"
"I wanna keep my f**kin money in my pocket "oh snap" "hold up" "damn"

Cook it up
spooky, Salute, look
bazooka hook it up
Shoot the local when he coop the loop
Lowbrow low brim
She asked me: What's your name?
I flashed the grossest fang in show biz
Young falconry's open, what's yours?
Umm jenny um
Body block in the ten penny sum
sprung colossal Ms. may I process your Pentium
But they is hesitating, My princess: The pigeon holing
Rose at your predecessor's lunacy in the kismet
Her eyes Googled back as that in form unfortunate three
Plus a new kink in the posture
Just don't get all 'Binuclear'
Get PT Barnum then Three-D THX Sound Stereo Dismissal
Sorry Hun it's just the last few been a fist full
Like, like, like them girls you bump into out of dumb luck
Get high, innocently kiss once when she Punch Drunk
Watch her misinterpret the moment tongues touched
Crazy Mc-Cling a lot claim instant ONE LOVE
Then you got to beg your friends to
Take her off your hands like thumb cuffs
What a bar angel Bi for a Sexy Second, Lovely
Give her a month and Hide Heckles Jackal
And she makes Hitler look cuddly
But jenny in the sky with emerald eyes
You're so different, so delicious, sort of fish
I'd be willing to walk the limb with
So let's just get a few things out the way: (ok)
I'm clinically bonkers and
Hate just about everyone that god's green earth offers
I won't be getting dressed up to impress your family dear,
And if I can't wear jeans and sneakers then
I won't be lamping there
Agro pimp simply finicky note faggot bag it up no diggity soldier
Magic touch finger tip donor
Own up to your dirty debutant
Animalistic instincts ritual courting dance and breeding behaviors (like what)
I dream of Jeanie, and f**king her obscenely
But Jenny could be Jeannie so easily if you'd let me
Held a bad tack Daddy-O-Merlyn E for Effort
Most of these high post Fabio world mother f**ks make my head hurt
DEAD UP I got death in the skull but you'll get use to it ma'
dinner and cinema YES! Just… couph the bread up
sure he shelps a naked pocket
But I carry dreams
Like I want to be an astronaut after you marry me
WHAT? Offer me this:
I feel smothered, it's chronic offaly me dolly
“I love you.”
“Get Off Of ME!”
"call me"
And I'm circling her like a tiger shark frenzy but friendly
“I'm Cool, how you feeling jenny, jenny! jenny? jenny?”
so quiet ooh I like that. so mysterious I dig it
The way you haven't made eye contact with me once in ten minutes
I'm just saying girl: I'm dirty dog walk vintage mixed with mega low society
mixed it with gutter funk educate wanna “Try Me!”
So there it is: GAME
“I mean it's not like I'm sweating you
because when it comes down to it, most yall females are the same,
So now it's your turn baby spit it out”
“O K…” She punched me dead in the f**king mouth and walked away ->
Watch out ladys cus you know he dont love ya.
bazooka tooth is one bad motha f**ker.
he's a low life man with a low life game.
he needs a low life dame with a strobe light fram.
so cook it up. cook it up. cook it up yall, cook it up.
cook it up. cook it up now. cook it up. cook it up. cook it ueueuep.
No ring on the finger. It aint no strings attached.
but if you love television and manic depression, get a carton of cigarettes. and we can...
make it happen.
get to mackin..
just leave your baggage on the curb with the trash can.
it aint like i seen you in maxim.
relax with the tap dance.
lights camera lap dance.
cook it up.

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Songwriter(s): J. Gibson, Anthony Simon, Ian Bavitz
Publisher(s): Third Side Music Inc. O.B.O. Just Isn'T Music, Copyright Control
Record Label(s): 2003 Block Block Chop
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