Song Search

Cook County

by Mach-Hommy

on Dollar Menu 2 (2017)

[Intro: Mach-Hommy]
Aha
I found it!

[Verse 1: Mach-Hommy]
Yo!
Young Mach
Slim Shady with the m&m Glock
Pon c*ck
Benz navy with the emblem Croc
Bonswa
Been wavy since the Timberland time, long time
You had to have the wag like Jordan in a
Nautica with generous Ralph
Rinse mouth
Spit synthesis, no reminisce now
Lick shots
Like Grant Flanagan, Offset, time Quavo
Channelling B.I.G. and Pac
Takeoff, this sh*t get hot and they canvas you n*ggas' block
Where the cops?
Beg your pardon, examining if it's hot
Tear apart all the paneling in the drought
Benadryl in the Carhartt, Epi
Pen in the sock
I'm allergic to that rhetoric a lot
I only came for what belongs to me
But while the prayers on the way
I'mma invigorate in the sport- dearly beloved
You fake n*ggas Vaudeville
I record daily, invite you to the wake
Your name is on the wall, silly
Your face is on the wall, silly


[Bridge: Mach-Hommy & *Tha God Fahim*]
These n*ggas love my style *n*ggas love the style man*
Can't wait to hear what's up with this wave *Tell the truth n*gga*
These n*ggas love my style *This some fly sh*t n*gga*
Can't wait to hear what's up with this wave *You know what I'm sayin'?*
These n*ggas love my style *n*ggas don't even know what to do with the wave*
Can't never get enough of this main course
These n*ggas love my style *n*ggas love the style n*gga*
I'm cooking again, boy *We got all kinda sh*t, all kinda ways to come at you n*ggas*

These n*ggas love my style *You know what I'm sayin', that ill sh*t, that raw sh*t n*gga*
Can't wait to hear what's with this wave *You know you love this sh*t, don't front*
These n*ggas love my style *Know you love the style*
Can't never get enough of this main course *It's the motherf*cking God!*
These n*ggas love my style
I'm cooking again, boy *Yo*


[Verse 2: Tha God Fahim]
I'm cooking again, you can't copy, I'm cooking again
Like Emeril Lagasse, season the broccoli
Got hangovers
We sipping on flamethrowers, Molotov c*cktails
Crimson fabric on the dinner table
I'm cooking like Bronson on cable
Crush red peppers on the tile with the bagels
You the type of n*gga get fed under the table, you's a animal
I pin the nail on the tail then hammer you
You're mind-boggled
Shinobi eye night vision goggles
Steady looking for triggers to toggle
I never graduated, schools I hated, mics get mutilated
Compare my style to aromatics
Masses awaited my return
Shrouded in gold, bedazzled clothes got my shining like Sierra Leone
Plot I come for your dome
Ammo fly through your home
Should've left me alone, muh'f*cka

[Outro: Tha God Fahim]
You know it's the motherf*cking God, n*gga
Mach-Hommy, n*gga
We cooking again
We cooking again
I said, we cooking again
I said, we cooking again
We cooking again
All you f*ck ass n*ggas man
I'm out