| Vamp life
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| (I got that money)
|
| You know what they say
|
| Trap jumping
|
| When it get to hot in the kitchen, uh
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| What you cooking? |
| Chicken or fish?
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| (I don’t wanna hear you niggas talking about no more work)
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| How many pots on the stove?
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| I got the money and I got the pack
|
| (Got that pack)
|
| I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
|
| (Bring it right back)
|
| Drop a four in it then drop
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| They love when I be cooking up the blow
|
| In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| I’m in love with my kitchen
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| I’m in love with my kitchen
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| I’m in love with my kitchen
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| Yeah
|
| I got the money and I got the sack
|
| (Got that sack)
|
| I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
|
| In the kitchen
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| I got four pots going and a crock pot too
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| Cooked four quarters and I got back two
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| Want fishscale? |
| And I got that too
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| But I’m dry right now
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| Nigga stop back through
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| Talking 'bout cooking the whiter shade
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| Nigga’s be using the microwave
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| They booked 'em and took 'em in right away
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| He might never see the light of day
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| The walls in my kitchen all yellow
|
| So I put the coke in the fridge like it’s Jello
|
| You know you got to guard the kitchen
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| So I keep shooters in New York like Carmello
|
| I be cooking that shit like it’s Ruth Chris
|
| Cooking that shit to a new whip
|
| Look at that shit while I’m hitting that shit
|
| Now I’m whipping that shit like its Cool Whip
|
| Traffic, compression then stretch it
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| To buy it we don’t need to test it
|
| If it ain’t about money don’t stress it
|
| Put the Tec to a nigga like a message
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| Still cooking coke like five stars
|
| Young dope boy with five cars
|
| All cash nigga how be buy ours
|
| Yeah we live fast and we die hard
|
| I got the money and I got the pack
|
| (Got that pack)
|
| I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
|
| (Bring it right back)
|
| Drop a four in it then drop
|
| They love when I be cooking up the blow
|
| In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| Yeah
|
| I got the money and I got the sack
|
| (Got that sack)
|
| I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
|
| In the kitchen
|
| Ruger!
|
| Man I got the money and I got the pack
|
| You know a Ruger to this little light-skinned bitch
|
| He ain’t never gotta buy
|
| (Hey baby)
|
| All I gotta do is look at my shooter and he 'gon pop the strap
|
| Uptown with the mother-fuckin' killers is where you’ll find me at
|
| Might cook a whole brick with my gun on me
|
| Shoot my old man if he run on me
|
| Bury me in all gold
|
| At least put a mother-fucking ton on me
|
| Man these nigga’s ain’t living right
|
| Don’t be suprised if you got a homie
|
| I brought some real money out tonight
|
| In case niggas front on me
|
| In my kitchen
|
| I’m in love in my kitchen
|
| When my hand start to itchin' then them bricks get to flippin'
|
| Bought a house with ten bathrooms, because I stay shittin'
|
| Nigga’s look funny then my shooters start hittin'
|
| (Hittin')
|
| I got the money and I got the pack
|
| (Got that pack)
|
| I drop a deuce in then I bring it back
|
| (Bring it right back)
|
| Drop a four in it then drop
|
| They love when I be cooking up the blow
|
| In the kitchen, I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| I’m in love with my kitchen
|
| Yeah
|
| I got the money and I got the sack
|
| (Got that sack)
|
| I drop a deuce in it then I bring it back
|
| In the kitchen
|
| Uh-huh
|
| It’s Philthy nigga
|
| I do!
|
| Look
|
| I say now forty birds in my caravan
|
| This forty on me got a kick-stand
|
| I’m in love with the kitchen nigga
|
| Tell the hoe do the dishes nigga
|
| (Ay, clean up bitch!)
|
| Two stoves and eight pots
|
| Two niggas cooking eight blocks
|
| The from foot heels to that’s eight blocks
|
| In the kitchen like culinary
|
| These nigga’s actors like Tyler Perry
|
| Ain’t never move no kilos
|
| Couldn’t find you one like Nemo
|
| My whole hood been locked up for trafficking, doing life nigga
|
| On 580 doing eighty nigga with an eighty pack of that white shit
|
| Thirty-six and the whole whammy
|
| In a cereal box stuffed in the cabinet
|
| Right behind all the baking soda
|
| If you cook it right you might take it over
|
| Fish-scale, my lips sealed, I’ll never tell what I don' seen
|
| Bag it up, put a thousand grams on the triple-beam
|
| (It's Philthy) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Kitchen, artist - Jim Jones. Album song We Own The Night Pt. 2: Memoirs Of A Hustler, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп