ARMY OF THE PHARAOHS - Cookin\' Keys lyrics

rate me

I'm in the kitchen cooking up bananas

Cameras on the roofs with the police scanners

By any means I'm a get these papers

Ride with a nigga or catch these vapours

Smooth melodic, cool water with butters on

Got beef with a nigga, save that for another song

Paz on point so he putting his brothers on

Steez still the same, get you murked by a gutter john

Head in the streets cause the whip is spacious

Benz stretched out legs feel like a spaceship

Cheques ain't clear, I'm hitting y'all with the facts

If the cheque never came I'd hit your mom and a cap

Got the streets on smash, key notes on wax

Hundred pack on iTunes trying to make cream back

Yeah, the key's cooked and the bricks is stovetop

It's Chef Boyardee flipping nicks on your whole block

Yeah, born in the coldest winter, live and I die a sinner

And while I'm here I'm hustling, get paper with my niggas

Last of a dying breed, Pharaoh clique in your section

Before I leave my rest, kiss my wiz, load my weapon

Yeah that's my right hand man, that fifty cal chrome

Off-safety when I roam, I ain't never alone

Won't catch a nigga slipping, won't catch a nigga dipping

Cause I done mastered my high, you out your mind tripping

Yeah you can come and try, won't be the smartest move

My bitch

Hustler, a son of one, bitch I'm a son of one

My money it got right, copped me another gun

These punk bitches get the bozak the gas face

I feel like Earnhardt in his last race

This last lap in this game, I'm a hit the throttle

Syze, we celebrate new life, hit this bottle

Plan, I think the situation's getting hairy

We make them say the Our Father and their Hail Mary

Scary how niggas turn Judas, no trust

I take it back to 5-6 when it was only us

Snakes slither in the grass in the killing field

So I manoeuvre through them by sitting in a bigger wheel

You's a small time hustler, I'm a bigger deal

And that shit you spit will be the shit that get you killed

Ready for war, I'm in it for the long haul

Throwing a molotov sidearm

Yeah, holding my fort with my pipes drawn

I kill everything when this mic's on, believe it

Yo f-u-c-k-f-b-I cops, you niggas don't like my shit

I tell them niggas suck a dirty dick with gonorrhea on the tip

I'm getting money courtesy of your bitch

Nigga it's the Army Of The Pharaohs, we hood American Idols

You don't like us? You can suck my dick

I got a long rope and an oxy if you feeling suicidal

See that window? Hop out that bitch

Nigga think you can ease it then be it but see me not

I'm too heated and weeded to lose it so please be hot

They just fiending to be the most conceited team on the top

I'm leaning to be the most meanest as Biggie and Pac

Man these demons is dreaming

It's easy to see they just want to be me cause I'm hot

So fuck my theme and my plot, smoking weed in your

And fall dummy to that casket cause they eat at you pop

You can believe it or not, I done sold weed to a cop

Caught a case, banged it and ran back to the fiends on my block

Fiends on my block? That's logical, my flow is phenomenal

I put a couple dots on your block like dominoes

Red beaming them, I stay with my team and them

I keep four nines in the tuck like Steve and them

This my track, a diss like that

Cause when you shoot like a freethrow you miss like Shaq

I'm from Killadel county, the killers they all surround me

I'm losing my nigga slowly Poppa Large make him proud of me

If you see Nemi then tell your people to see me

I'm here for the take and holding these streets down, believe me

My nigga Balo, I know your halo is platinum

I'm a see you at the gates, I'll be rocking something ravishing

The Seven Sacraments made for the sacrificial

The baptismal of rap bristle to sacramental

My rap essentials is murder tracks and pencils

Gat utensils is only used for niggas acting simple

My syllable slice niggas like a caesarean

You killable right? I spit bars like a barbarian

I never thought I'd see the day hip hop would give birth to faggots

Mr. T mohawks and Urkel glasses, I'm from a hood where they rob cool kids

And I can't wear skinny jeans cause my Glock's too big

Yeah, I got the wildest style, death bears a childish smile

Beat you with soap in a sock, you a Private Pyle

I'm fear order from green onions I peel quarters

What's rap? I bump Foghat and Creedence Clearwater

Bad moon rising, I'm howling at the bitch

Haters baffled how he spent a thousand on the kicks

I get thousands just to spit, fuck all the drama shit

I don't make statements, get bank statements and deposit slips

And it's always gonna be this way

C-notes like study hall in tenth grade

To this day I fuck bitches and get paid

What's piff? I got the green monster like Fenway