Yelawolf, Caskey and Cub da CookUpBoss - Cookies
Oowee, uhOoh yeah, ooh yeah
Oowee
(In the kitchen and it's Tastey) Bitch
Yeah
I ain't a killer, don't push me
Shawty was acting too boujee
When she see the car that I'm in
And won't give me that pussy, okay (oowee, okay)
I think I know why they looking
You gotta hate, you would check just to book me
I don't dessert but I smoke on the Cookies, okay
Too much room in the Maybach
She don't know what to do with herself
Poured up clean, Ajax
She on that white bread, like a patty melt
And the Rolex tell where the date at
In a city where I know all the hate at
Lightweight, but you know where the weight at
The pack touchdown, I'm a fucking Tom Brady
Touchdown, touch now, heavy boys, too much Crown
Heater on my waist and it weigh four pounds
Silence on the gun, so it make no sounds (uh)
She on the snow like a old red sled
I turned her down like a hotel bed
She want the red light, she's in for it yeah
What she in for? Infrared
I'm working my shit, I'm popping my shit
Y'all niggas ain't stopping my shit (okay)
I'm clutching my shit, I'm bussin' my shit
Told y'all, don't fuck with my shit
Cookupboss, I'm really lit
Got rich of talking shit
Fuck around and get you hit
And fuck your bitch, lil' funky bitch
Look, shit cool 'til it ain't cool
I told y'all I ain't no rapper, yeah
Puttin' your gun on Instagram
I can tell you ain't no stepper
I been on the PJ in my PJs and some Gucci slides
In my carry-on it's a hundred thou'
All my lil niggas money Shaq size
She know the vibe
Yeah
I ain't a killer, don't push me
Shawty was acting too boujee
When she see the car that I'm in
And won't give me that pussy, okay (oowee, okay)
I think I know why they looking
You gotta hate, you would check just to book me
I don't dessert but I smoke on the Cookies, okay
Yeah, much room, bada-boom, bada-bing
Take a dose down, I'm a boss, I'm a king, that G.O.A.T
Have your bitch up on a pole
She groom on a bro, wanna roll with the team, that pro
I'm too cold need a coat, spit my guts out, scratchy throat
Cough on a coffin, kill that I'm often
Should've been a hit, paid up in gold
The pirate arrived in the white
'95 I apply what I rider to a code
Cocaine on the seats, propane on a beat
I'm a flame to the heat, you cold
Old school like a log in a blue stove
No fools want a problem, but you know
No tools in the box you can't screw me (oowee)
No crew got a pocket for loose hoes
Lame rappers, fuck outta here
Yeah
I ain't a killer, don't push me
Shawty was acting too boujee
When she see the car that I'm in
And won't give me that pussy, okay (oowee, okay)
I think I know why they looking
You gotta hate, you would check just to book me
I don't dessert but I smoke on the Cookies, okay
Written by:
Michael Atha, Brandon Caskey, Kevin Frierson
Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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