Betty Crocker

All I'm really saying is that your gonna need a doctor
Over load that belly with the Betty fucking Crocker
Oh shit he passed out shocker
Can't even blame him because I took his girl and rocked her
Took him to the morgue and we had to escort him
Couldn't handle my vibe according the post-mortem
I'm the spitting racoon I'll go dig through your trash
Hit the dash, get the cash leave the fucking rest to ash
Like I'm a caveman I can't behave man
The chef, the chef is what you fucking crave man
Chilling with the squadron like a colony of ants
When this song is over you may fucking poop your pants
And I'll make you go ape that your hanging off the fence
So when it gets intense at least the zoo is my defense

So what will it be a pint, glass or bottle
Heiny on the set were going full fucking throttle
So what will it be a pint, glass or bottle
Heiny on the set were going full fucking throttle
So what will it be a pint, glass or bottle
Heiny on the set were going full fucking throttle



Credits
Writer(s): Chef Borges
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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