Lyrics

[VERSE 1]
Ayo the recipe be/ Success love n health/ Those three plus peace
equal righteous wealth/ Been known to walk with God but I sit wit
myself/ Be Tolerant of others but be strict with yo’self/ No longer do
I sip liqs it restricts my stealth/ Dat Golden elixir, guaranteed to fix ya/
I learned dat da spirits ‘n my spirit don't mix yeah/ Mixed up mixtures
not for this ninja/ No Michelin star
Colloidal in the canister/ Ambassador to Canada, It's bloody raw!
/ Sashiming my salmon sir/ White board calendar/ Assassinate ya
charactah/ Monster mash massacre/ Missions out in Africa/ Soup
kitchen scavenger/ With Agatha, asking her to be my Dark Passenger/
Please be my victim, chef it like a sitcom/ Let’s both revolt against the
system and twist one/ What's the procedure, burn reefer like ether on
my Ebenezer/ Streets wanna try ‘n eat’cha/ Each one a teacher/ Still
my bruvas keeper/ Don't touch my croc pot, get stuck like a seizure/
Get tucked like a t-shirt/ Get snuck like a sneaker/ As the dish get
deeper than a Chicago Phils Pizza/ Dark skin neva bleacha/ He a
handful/ Blood sauce stay cold, Gispatcho/ Head honcho in a sous
chef poncho/ Rocket launch yo/ Muffins into the oven with lovin’
When I bust in/ Whud’up cousin! / ‘Bout to make a mil with Mills/
Bout to bake a cake wit da bass/No frills, no thrills/ We so trill/ Skills to pay da bills/ In dis
devil's kitchen, Peep the smooth transition/ Serve food like it's
wisdom/ Prepared to precision/ Cyph restaurant rendition, well done/
To medium rare/ We don't even compare Apples to Apricots/ Yeah I
Seen my fair share/ Of the soufflés in the boule/ Dem two face/
Couldn’t tie my shoe lace/ Move way, Dem too waste/ Spaghetti is my
shoe string/ They too hot too taste/ Angel hair pasta, Cheffed by a
rasta/ We cook Proppa/ Mills n Cyph we spit deadly/ But this is life!
[CHORUS]
No Michelin Star I’m too raw/ No Michelin Star Cyph is too
raw/ No Michelin Star Peezy’s too Raw/ No Michelin Star we cook it
too raw, RAW!
We’re bloody raw!