"Still In The Kitchen" lyrics - ICE CUBE

ICE CUBE

"Still In The Kitchen"

The almighty E-A-Ski track
Cook it up
Yeah

Raised a man, bake a man, roll that dough
Smokin' on a Swisha, bloody as a butcher
Cut you in two with mister Ginsu
John Wu nigga from the LA Zoo
Grade A ass, I filet that ass
I make that cash, I birthday bash
I wedding crash, it's the iron chef
The big piece of chicken, that's all that's left
Cake Boss get you full as Rick Ross
All this sugar, don't forget to floss
Get lost if you already ate
Up out the kitchen, nigga, don't violate
Don't 'cha get shot, 'cha fuckin' bloodclot
No you're not, up in granddaddy pot
Shit is hot, baby, if your ass can't take it
Get the fuck out or get butt naked

W-W-West coast dime, you niggas don't want it
I'm still in the kitchen
Genghis Khan with Chuck Taylors on
There's no competition, I'm still in the kitchen
You niggas don't want it
Nigga, she know you rollin' in some dough
I'm still in the kitchen
With all that ambition
Yeah, I'm still in the kitchen
I'm still in the kitchen

Have you ever went over a friend's house to eat and his woman can't cook?
Nigga, I shook
Just my luck, fuck a potluck
B-B-Bitch better know how to fuck a duck up
Baby, wake up and hook my steak up
I don't give a fuck about your make-up
Don't come in here with no Wolfgang Puck
Hockey puck tastin' ass shit that suck
People know that my herbs and spices give niggas the itis with no gingivitis
Bite us
They think they gettin' they Wendy's but they gettin' is sugar diabetes
These Twinkies, got 'em wrapped around my pinkies
Cream fillin' comes out when I kill 'em
The cookie monster is up in the buildin'
Willy Wonka, I treat 'em like my children
My favorite

My gumbo is like straight up Columbo
Ya know? That shit that they grow out in Humbolt
Ya know? They wanna call me the colonel
That nigga dead, this shit eternal
Ya know? Take a look in my cookbook
Everything I do is a good look
Don't mistake my notepad for the Good Book
The nerve of 'em, turn on my oven
Motherfucker so full, think I drug 'em
Hand on they stomach, can't stop rubbin'
Fatten ya up and if ya herky jerky
Carve your ass up in that turkey jerkey
Serve you on a platter with side of clam chowder
My hot sauce ain't just hot, it's gunpowder
Aunt Jemima but my fuckin' syrup
I make a chef take his ass back to Europe

Give me half a cup of hustle
A teaspoon of game
And a pinch of bullshit