Army Of The Pharaohs - Cookin' Keys lyrics

[Verse 1: Doap Nixon] I'm in the kitchen cooking up bananas Cameras on the roofs with the police scanners By any means I'mma get these papers Ride with a n***a or catch these vapours Smooth melodic, cool water with bu*ters on Got beef with a n***a, 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 [Verse 2: Des Devious] Yeah, born in the coldest winter, live and I die a sinner And while I'm here I'm hustling, get paper with my n***as 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 n***a slipping, won't catch a n***a 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 b**h'll pull the hammer and make it do what it do Hustler, a son of one, b**h I'm a son of one My money it got right, copped me another gun [Verse 3: Crypt The Warchild] These punk b**hes get the bozak the gas face I feel like Earnhardt in his last race This last lap in this game, I'mma 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 n***as turn Judas, no trust I take it back to 5-6 when it was only us Snakes slither in the gra** in the k**ing 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 sh** you spit will be the sh** that get you k**ed Ready for war, I'm in it for the long haul Throwing a molotov sidearm Yeah, holding my fort with my pipes drawn I k** everything when this mic's on, believe it [Chorus] Yo f-u-c-k-f-b-i cops, you n***as don't like my sh** I tell them n***as s** a dirty dick with gonorrhea on the tip I'm getting money courtesy of your b**h n***a it's the Army Of The Pharaohs, we hood American Idols You don't like us? You can s** my dick I got a long rope and an oxy if you feeling suicidal See that window? Hop out that b**h [Verse 4: Demoz] n***a 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? for their spot It's easy to see they just want to be me cause I'm hot So f** 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 [Verse 5: Planetary] I'm from k**adel county, the k**ers they all surround me I'm losing my n***a 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 n***a Balo, I know your halo is platinum I'mma 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 n***as acting simple My syllable slice n***as like a caesarean You k**able right? I spit bars like a barbarian [Verse 6: Reef The Lost Cauze] I never thought I'd see the day hip hop would give birth to f*ggots Mr. T mohawks and Urkel gla**es, 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, d**h 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 b**h Haters baffled how he spent a thousand on the kicks I get thousands just to spit, f** all the drama sh** 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 f** b**hes and get paid What's piff? I got the green monster like Fenway [Chorus]