Lucky - Kitchen lyrics

[Jim Jones] Vamp life (I got that money) You know what they say Trap jumping When it get to hot in the kitchen, uh What you cooking? Chicken or fish? (I don't wanna hear you n***as talking about no more work) How many pots on the stove? [Hook: Cashout] I got the money and I got the pack (Got that pack) I drop a deuce in then I bring it back (Bring it right back) Drop a four in it then drop [?] They love when I be cooking up the blow In the kitchen, I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen Yeah I got the money and I got the sack (Got that sack) I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back In the kitchen [Verse 1: Jim Jones] I got four pots going and a crock pot too Cooked four quarters and I got back two Want fishscale? And I got that too But I'm dry right now n***a stop back through Talking 'bout cooking the whiter shade n***a's be using the microwave They booked 'em and took 'em in right away He might never see the light of day The walls in my kitchen all yellow So I put the coke in the fridge like it's Jello You know you got to guard the kitchen So I keep shooters in New York like Carmello I be cooking that sh** like it's Ruth Chris Cooking that sh** to a new whip Look at that sh** while I'm hitting that sh** Now I'm whipping that sh** like its Cool Whip Traffic, compression then stretch it To buy it we don't need to test it If it ain't about money don't stress it Put the Tec to a n***a like a message Still cooking coke like five stars Young dope boy with five cars All cash n***a how be buy ours Yeah we live fast and we die hard [Hook] I got the money and I got the pack (Got that pack) I drop a deuce in then I bring it back (Bring it right back) Drop a four in it then drop [?] They love when I be cooking up the blow In the kitchen, I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen Yeah I got the money and I got the sack (Got that sack) I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back In the kitchen [Verse 2: Hell Rell] Ruger! Man I got the money and I got the pack You know a Ruger to this little light-skinned b**h He ain't never gotta buy (Hey baby) All I gotta do is look at my shooter and he 'gon pop the strap Uptown with the mother-f**in' k**ers is where you'll find me at Might cook a whole brick with my gun on me Shoot my old man if he run on me Bury me in all gold At least put a mother-f**ing ton on me Man these n***a's ain't living right Don't be suprised if you got a [?] homie I brought some real money out tonight In case n***as front on me In my kitchen I'm in love in my kitchen When my hand start to itchin' then them bricks get to flippin' Bought a house with ten bathrooms, because I stay sh**tin' n***a's look funny then my shooters start hittin' (Hittin') [Hook] I got the money and I got the pack (Got that pack) I drop a deuce in then I bring it back (Bring it right back) Drop a four in it then drop [?] They love when I be cooking up the blow In the kitchen, I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen I'm in love with my kitchen Yeah I got the money and I got the sack (Got that sack) I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back In the kitchen [Verse 3: Philthy Rich] Uh-huh It's Philthy n***a I do! Look I say now forty birds in my caravan This forty on me got a kick-stand I'm in love with the kitchen n***a Tell the hoe do the dishes n***a (Ay, clean up b**h!) Two stoves and eight pots Two n***as cooking eight blocks The [?] from foot heels to [?] that's eight blocks In the kitchen like culinary These n***a's actors like Tyler Perry Ain't never move no kilos Couldn't find you one like Nemo My whole hood been locked up for trafficking, doing life n***a On 580 doing eighty n***a with an eighty pack of that white sh** Thirty-six and the whole whammy In a cereal box stuffed in the cabinet Right behind all the baking soda If you cook it right you might take it over Fish-scale, my lips sealed, I'll never tell what I don' seen Bag it up, put a thousand grams on the triple-beam (It's Philthy)