[Verse 1]

Yeahhh

When it comes to beef, nigga I'm a five star chef

Look it's rules to this shit, I wrote me a cookbook

You can't stand the heat Hell up out the kitchen

For that ass get burnt or my fire start spitting

First off, every customer is different

You gotta cater to their needs and give them what they wishing for

For example someone act all wild

Then you microwave they shit and serve 'em right now

No time to think, fuck consequences

Just beef served up with the blood still drippin'

Keep the ingredients secret and kill anybody who peeped it

Alright now, Then you got custy's who calmly waiting

You got to marinate their shit and premeditate it

No need to rush just season them up

Put the flame on low and let them simmer real slow

Get them real comfortable, just chill

Then you serve 'em they last meal

Fillet Mignon, well done, was it soft motherfucker now you stiffed 'em they up

On special occasions I do delivery, but mostly I let them come to me

Cause I ain't going on my way chasin' down nobody, I got a bussines to run

But if I have to I'll be knocking on your door like the pizzaboy

Well hot deff on a platter, like seek and destroy

{Fuck y'all want man, I don't want beef with y'all niggas man }{Stupid ass motherfucker}

Chorus:

Recipe for Murder (16x)

Verse 2:

It only take a teaspoon full of heart to squeeze on a burner

And a cup full of karma sense to get a way with murder

(??)I'll do rats like the chainsaw burns like poppeye's (??)

I stuff your chicken while you gagged and tied

Make you watch and cry while I feed her that beef

Little to your knowledge she set up the whole thing

That's my baby, my little bit of sugar, I use her to rock on the sleep

Make them think shit sweet

Yeah they call me the iron cheff, I put the iron to your head

Remove all the wrinkels from your screwface betted in

Botox the bolax, I push in another clip and I keep bustin shots

Try to run get your wings fried, cook your insides with these copper top big boys out the .45

Tell you grace for you dig in your own grave get in

My customer service number one in the business

That boy done stick a fork in him

Corners bring them doggybags too I'm finished

Bring them scraps to the mall, it's usually none lead

Every plate is scraped and food get ate

You fealing tired?

Yeah, that's that ice kicking in, when I put them niggas on that lead diet

This is, food for thought get your fucking jaw wider

Use a glutine for paint, I feed you to the lions

Chorus