Gourmet

Get out the kitchen, nigga
 Cookin' in this motherfucker right now
 ♪
 Crack a crustacean, garlic butter and shallots in the basin
 Weak line, cook serve Olive Garden patrons
 Me? I'd rather rule in hell, sautés for Satan
 Work Vikings, gristle on the apron
 Hold down my station
 Small potatoes like 7-Elevens and gas stations
 Masked up, I can afford to be gasfacin'
 Spit like a wine tastin'
 Bust Mr Wayne, pistol-whip Dick Grayson
 Never panic, walk patient
 Pick up the shell casings
 Leave microphone chalk tracings
 Run Ds MCs like Jam Master Jason
 And live forever in headphones and basements
 Hahaha
 You're so dumb
 You don't even see the riches you're treading on with your own feet
 Hahaha
 Home Run Kings, rumor mill says our mics' corked
 Allow me to retort, take them out the park (clack)
 Big green monsters get sparked for sport
 Soundclashes get fought
 Smoke clears, stick 'em with the fork
 Still tender, three-day bender
 Bloody diamonds never lost they splendor
 Go postal, any beef return to sender
 Spin doctor, sick style-blender
 Ill purée, over your head, skill toupée
 Tattered fatigues with the knockoff AK
 Third World classics
 Like military coups, and better shooting through plastics
 Automatics for the people
 Howardson's for the sequel, shoot 'tll we equal
 I made my bed but have no intention of lying in it 'til I'm dead
 Blood scratching his head like, "I ain't hear a word you said"
 That's okay money grip, just pass the Lambsbread, honey-dipped
 (Niggas finna stay out of jail? Alright, here you go)
 How to stay out of jail, the simple answer, don't break the law
 But since you're black, that'll only get you so far
 Better idea, don't smoke in the car
 And if you do, stash the hunk in your shoe
 Don't listen to your crew
 They always get locked, fuck can they tell you?
 Another thing, cops come, you better run
 It's not important if you dirty or not son
 Chances are somebody with you got weed or a gun
 And if they get away, Bo's gon' clamp you anyway
 On some shit like, "Oh, that's how you wanna play?"
 Cuffed up, crackers all in your drawers all day
 Trust me, that'll ruin your day
 Especially when they say, you fitting the description
 Welcome to the system
 You'll be going to jail
 If they don't kill you first
 We need better guns, more of them