Cook Up

Lil GotitLil Gotit 

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Lil Gotit

Semaja Z. Render (born August 6, 1999), known professionally as Lil Gotit, is an American rapper and songwriter. more »

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Zone six nigga, pyrex whipper (Pyrex)
Hood talk alright

Trunk in the front
This ain't no ordinary engine
Need all the money, yeah
I want all the blue benjis
Car outside runnin', yeah
This speed have no limit my racks is strong
My appearance have attention
These racks gettin' long, fifty on me
Not no ten shit don't call my phone
I don't got no business with you
Big house and lawn
Got our vibes makin' visuals
Bust down two-tone, put one
Them on your head, they get you
This no cappin', catch the static
Got your ho she doin' the nasty
Uzi came, we ridin' on benches
Uzi game, might shoot out benches
If it's slime over here, play nasty
Shooters in your bushes campin'
All my chains, they Michael Jackson
Your diamonds, they look like plastic
Tryna reach for my shit, take your chances
Riches leave 'em where he standin'
Paid all cash, I'm not rentin'
What's in the stash? I got plenty
Chanel bag hold that sticky
And my slimes up the blicky
Half a million, oh, I'm leading
Got they face lookin' shitty
Crazy bitch, get out of my face, you vicky
Wanna put rose gold pures in the
Bitch boy ain't gon' slide, he chicken
Red and green beams on Glock, no Christmas
Southside Nechie with me, yeah, he crippin'
Go and tie your shoes, lil' boy
You trippin'
Going all the way up, this beginning
Build this shit up
I ain't talking 'bout bridges
Talk too much so his face got stitches
Time to cook up, put in the kitchen
Talk to my dog
We ain't fightin' 'bout bitches
It's not hi-tech, time to listen
Yellow diamonds on my wrist, I pissed it
Just come and test who gon' be the richest
Might pop a Perc just to get me a feeling
Now I get racks but I came from stealin'
They scared of beefing 'cause
That shit forbidden
We don't talk, gon' shake the building
He say he tryna take my spot, oh really?
Can't get no cover on the millions
Steak and shrimp, oh yeah, we livin'
I'm at top floor lookin' over the city
With two french bitches in the bed kissin'
Young nigga shit, they better get wit' it

Hood, baby (Drip) hood, baby (Kill 'em)
Hood, baby (Drip) hood, baby (Kill 'em)
Hood, baby (Drip) hood, baby (Kill 'em)

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