Cook Up Lyrics – GRIP
Singer: GRIP
Title: Cook Up
Yeah, uh, sh#t, look
I just need the weed to cook up
n#gg#s physique too weak to compete with the elite, do some pushups
Still can’t spar with the God, try your hardest to bop
Y’all subpar bar for bar, a hardy har har with your squad
I hardly spark, which is odd
Y’all need weed to reach my sober thoughts
If I chief the sheesh, you need a
So distraught, f#ck about all the shoes and clothes you bought
Hold your thought, how many hoes you caught?
I ain’t take heat unless it’s the Oldies
Underperform and over-talk, how you gon’ throw the sot at a seasoned vet?
Rich emcees is next, step up and try they best to cease the threat
Hmm, my old b#tch tryin’ reconnеct
I’m way too busy to read your text
Rap n#gg#s sayin’ we need to work
I’m too wеll versed to sell you a verse
Grew up too tough to believe these acts
They all puppets with strings attached
Feel like anyone with a mic can get a check
I came to collect on it, b#tch, you know the name
Put some respect on it, G-R-I-P
Came in this game with a pen and a pad and the sins from my past to repent in the form of these
For the last of these hymns that I had, wait, somethin’ else–
Oh, yeah, to the bag, promised myself that a limb wouldn’t drag
And now it’s lookin’ real grim for you, dad
Boys ain’t f#ckin’ with him in the lab
Why n#gg#s even attempt to collab?
Paint the Sistine with sixteen bars, with thirty-two, I’m magic
My first forty-eight will do you tragic, with sixty-four, it’s caskets
My #ss is takin’ it too far, I’m 2Pac in a 2022 car
I’m anti, don’t wanna know who none of you are
I can’t lie, my stomach rumblin’ for the new stars
I’m Tyson, I’m Mike on the mic if we do spar
I’m just warmin’ up, this is heat rock
The air appearin’ in a pair of Pyer Moss Reebok
Might bust down the shop
Since broke boys buyin’ Rollies of Depop
I don’t sip from the teapot, I don’t drink well, I don’t do cheap shots
If there’s a problem, I don’t stress it
Real n#gg#, I’m, so I address it
God did it first, I’m second, crafted this in six days
On the seventh, I rested
Soon come old wraps on the boy
‘Till then, sit back, relax, and enjoy
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Lyrics GRIP – Cook Up
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