VERSE ONE
Tis the season, I'm a jolly chick/
Kicking it with the mean and melancholy to keep my folly legit/
I fade to black until my complexion is highly lit/
Then jump on top of whatever my nephew is hiding in/
I pick up a mighty pen just to tap on my tiny chin/
Then take off into outer earth like I'm floating on hydrogen/
Cause I can't stand be sitting unproductive and quiet when/
(“listen baby, the courage to create it is the courage to live”) I heard/
Content is optional if production flaming the beat/
So I decided to put a bunch of food on the heat/
I ain't got time to tryna bе someone elsе whicho time/
Or thinkin I'm greater than the God put His life on the line/
Just wanna, cook for ya, get something on that stomach/
Depending on if you are ready for what is coming/
Vinyl spatula to flip it especially different/
The oven is heavy metal but ain't nothing is Limp about the Bizkit/

HOOK
Who want it?
I broke my life off in this track/
It's finally apparent/
That I had to go and lose my life to get it back/
Now I’m whipping up freedom, is you with it?/
Come in the kitchen and get a whiff of the chicken/
Everybody, everybody get a plate when I'm finished/
Everybody, everybody get a plate when I'm finished/

VERSE TWO
Me and the homies stumble up out of the gym /
Lookin like Chucky, Tommy, Phil & Lil, and Suzie n’em/
And they don't even really too much care if I make it or not/
Just whether the plate has bacon or not/
This a warning, I'm not performing to warrant applause/
I get free singing by myself in my draws/
Cause the pressure ain't got NOTHING on me/
I take my time when I walk/
Like a drop-top caddy coming on the block/
Though all of my paint fell off/
They want me to focus on being ill, I ain't catching the cough/
Snatch the hands out the clock, straight tickin'em off/
I'm sticking to picking my chitlins with a spoon and a fork/
Got kool-aid In the 'fridgerator plus It's tea on the stove/
And if I got a hater, Imma get ya plate full/
Bet I kiss your cheek until you learn to make do/
Lookin like/
HOOK

VERSE THREE
We putting Bikini Bottom on the map/
This the joy you can't explain like when your edges grow back/
This is the last breath of my baby brother/
Cause even the bullet got out the dirt and apologized to my mother/
We don't flip bricks like parkour/
This is the kind of black that they don't have a card for/
I'm tryna be the Les Jones kinda beautiful/
Love'em until they become ashamed of what they do to you/
I'm moving through a valley of trouble like I was made for it/
Even got a pair of kicks made for it/
Itsay andbray ewnay ayday ymay abybay/
I be spitting pork shoulder like it's Labor Day/
If my bars ain't carbs or all the good proteins and fats/
You can't take me out the punchline, lil daddy/
Cause waiting for some juice is hella whack/
And I'm asking them/

HOOK