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motto - stroganoff lyrics

beef stroganoff, stroke my beef with the spaghetti sauce
take ya pantries off so i can get my raviolis off
cover you with parsley and basil
pepper and salt from the table
if you’re able to get past paprika your sh+t is stable
cover you in head to toe with vodka sauce and some alfredo
ya parmesan making me cheese hard with a half+b+ttoned sleeve on
get ya napkin tucked in your shirt
prepare for dessert
a squirt of tiramisu in your shoe and strawberry yogurt
cannolis shoved up the place you poo and napoleons too
by the end of the night, you’ll be minced in sicilian stew
won’t know what to do
chopped up like some hot gabagoo
with my crew we feast on your flavors, savor with every chew
hang you from the ceiling like a leg of prosciutto
balsamic reduction and melted mutzadel at ya funeral
time to get messy
break out the garlic powder, it’s empty
throw the container away, got a stash full of plenty
crack the seal off one of them
open it then i’m coming in
with the garlic in one hand and the onion in my other hand
you’re gonna smell like the back of a pizza oven
i know you’re loving every single second; i see you blushin
cheeks are rosy, red like a can of marinara
break out the flour
turn u into dough, bake u on high for an hour
take you outta the coal fire, you’ve grown tired
force a cappuccino down your throat now you’re dome’s wired
stay awake for a couple more minutes
sautéing the spinach
got u lubed up with virgin olive oil you’re at your limits
pull out the vinegar, finish her
break out the sk!llets
line the pan with pam so the nonstick is diminished
throw a couple salmons, haddocks, maybe tilapia on
gettin a little fishy, burnt the mahi the fire alarm
starting to shrill, at the same time i’m sparking the grill
with some filet mignons and porterhouse, you’re in for a thrill seasoned with herbs and spices
i’m slicing you quick like lighting
grab one of your turkey legs start l!cking then i begin the biting
shish kebabs, sausage and peppers
ain’t nothin better
lay down some turkey burgers for my pollotarian brethren
thought i was done with you lady?
mash your potato with gravy
chicken marsala shoved up your nostrils oh man that’s tasty
wipe the sour cream off of your glasses
oh, i missed a spot
ya got some a1 steak sauce on your mouth ya little tater tot
finished with the dinner, man i’m stuffed i need to take a nap
wrap the leftovers in cellophane for a midnight snack
wait a sec the apple turnover is in the oven still
d+mn that sh+ts too crispy better toss it in the garbage, phil
who the h+ll is phil?
oh yeah that’s my personal pastry chef
take a rolling pin and then i beat his little ass to death
thank you all for coming to my feast it really means a lot
next time we dine out on the town, you know i know a spot

- motto lyrics

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