Songtext zu ' John $tarks ' von Stove God Cooks

Uh
Realest shit ever, uh
It felt like that summer, that one summer
Uh, uh, we go, uh

Promised you the moon, brought back the stars instead
A call collect came from up north, them boys done scarred his head
I tried to tell you that this life is not forever
These cocaine endeavors for this cheddar come with drastic measures
Titanic diamond iceberg, Shaggy chasing Scooby Doo across my sweater
The Raf Simons Adidas came in vanilla
They like, “Cook$, I never know”, you never ever, nigga
Have my shooters write my name in cursive down the side of your Jetta
Have you climbing to the trunk
He should’ve worn his trunks the way that boy got wet up
The illest nigga never heard, but whatever
Now I’m ultra lit
This that next dimension paradigm shift
You can’t move out here, you paralyzed
You got a pair of eyes, I’m tripled up
We mix tequila with the simple syrup
If I become a author, my shit gon be called “To Whip a Bird”
Have a book reading sitting 'round the stove
Since you wanna be ‘Pac, grrra, get shot, die with that ring in your nose
They fooled us with that bling bling and that gold
You sold your soul, your record label was leasing that Rolls
I only wear this watch on the jet, this my plane Rollie (Woo)
I’m still balling like James Worthy (Up three)
The early bird snatch the Holy Spirit out your robe
I’m a cocaine God, you a clone
A pirate copy, shoot the parrot off your collarbone
Amiri hoodies under gabardine Prada coat
The condo countertops is made of bowling ball
Clocking my tow truck, they wan’ know what I pull in
You know I made that white jump like Chris Mullin
Pardon the footprint I left on the brick
A fossil of me is just a skeleton with Versace print (Woo)
Maybach curtains, no tint, bitch, I’m lit
They running plays out my book, ain’t that a bitch
My highlight reel is full of wrist-twisting
My shit different, ‘89 I would’ve played for the Pistons
You don’t really mean that shit you rhyming, do you?
The rental came packed with powder like Ramen noodles
Pentagram diamonds, I do voodoo in the Subaru
The sixes is trip, my young boy said when he empty the clip
He feel a rush like a blitz through the 2-hole
I just flew my thick bitch out for lipo’
777 on the FICO
You know what’s more important than throwing money in the strip club?
A bright soul
I been hot since we was watching Monday Nitro
Chopper make you cabbage patch, I water whip a cyclone
I go psycho with the white flow
Your favorite rapper tell me that I’m nice
Cook