Stew - Kitchen Lyrics

Always cook up in the kitchen
Pills and codeine, we mix 'em (Tru)
Got the scope, so we ain't missing (Pew)
Shoot at you, then we dipping (Yuh)
This shit turned to addiction
I wish I could say it's fiction (Isn't)
Pour me a cup, I sip it (Lean)
Pass me the weed, I twist it (Yuh)

My whole life been labeled a misfit
Everyday sucks dick, even Christmas
Don't play this song for the Christians
Crucify my words and image
Can't get past the line of scrimmage
Even if my name was Emmitt
Even if my QB Big Ben, tossing pigskin, raping women
I'm just kidding, got acquitted
But we all know Donald did it
Prolly wigless, fool the witness, so they don't know who this bitch is
Not knowing he'll be president
But that's irrelevant because he's got some money
So he's gonna go and fucking pay somebody
Gets the best attorney, now he runs the country
Always fucking tweeting something but it's really nothing
He knows how to really push my buttons
Like my ex-girlfriend 'cause she wouldn't suck dick
Made me suspect
Can't get a blowjob, now I'm upset
Friends like, "Stew you blow up yet?"
Switch the subject we'll discuss that
After you finish this tape from front-back
'Till then, lick my nut sack
This rap shit, you know I run that
Always have so what the fuck's a comeback?
I just wish that I could get some love back
Call the plug so I can get some drugs back
Flip the pack, now I'm back on track
'Lot of pressure and I'll never crack
Perfect my craft by collecting cash

Always cook up in the kitchen
Pills and codeine, we mix 'em (Tru)
Got the scope, so we ain't missing (Pew)
Shoot at you, then we dipping (Yuh)
This shit turned to addiction
I wish I could say it's fiction (Isn't)
Pour me a cup, I sip it (Lean)
Pass me the weed, I twist it (Yuh)

Looked in the mirror hanging onto my wall
The highest I've been and I'm never gonna fall
Perkys and xannys, I'm taking some more
'Till my ass hits the floor and I'm gonna be snoring

Well, that's not good
Yes I know I'm white, so I'm not hood
You last bish said that I pipe good, I could be her next man I should wife her
But, I ain't into that
Only seen her once on the internet
Hit her back on Snapchat, let her know I gotta bad wrap
But she wouldn't have that and she ain't half bad
Thinking I could smash that
But I gotta pass that, looking like Steve Nash playing with the Mavs
But I'm really in the trap, counting cash in a bag
With a nappy ass head and a blunt in my hand

Always cook up in the kitchen
Pills and codeine, we mix 'em (Tru)
Got the scope, so we ain't missing (Pew)
Shoot at you, then we dipping (Yuh)
This shit turned to addiction
I wish I could say it's fiction (Isn't)
Pour me a cup, I sip it (Lean)
Pass me the weed, I twist it (Yuh)

What have I done?
Who've I become?
Turned into the person I usually run from
So does that make me the dumb one?
Trapped myself locked in a dungeon of depression just need one gun
To end this shit, sick of the misery
Will you remember me and all the memories?
Don't say you're missing me you were friend to me
So do not mention me when you hear this EP
Watch it blow up and now I'm on the TV screen
Cook in the kitchen like my name is Paula Deen
But I got pills so call me the junkie king
Bish, call me the junkie king
Because it's what you think
That's how you painted me, my fucking pain is deep
Alcohol, drugs the only thing's saving me
That will not change for me