Puff Beaddy
ecb9e4bca0
"Cook & Saw" — Mister Bead works two trades with one pair of hands: he cooks (kitchen heat, the pass) and he saws (workshop blade, the build). Dual metaphor throughout — mise en place meets measure-twice-cut-once. Thesis: craft over clout, "real ones build it, fake ones jaw." Signature production gimmick: kitchen + shop foley as percussion (knife, sizzle, table-saw, sander, oven-ding). 3 versions: V1 Cook & Saw (balanced flex), V2 The Pass (kitchen-forward, "yes chef"), V3 Sawdust (workshop-forward). 6 productions: Mise En Place (boom-bap) / Sizzle (trap) / Greasy Spoon (funk-soul) / The Workbench (industrial) / Family Meal (warm soul) / Back Shop Lo-Fi. Lore: Oakville workshop, the wagon's parts cut by hand, precision-as-craft. No real people, zero slurs — copyright gates passed. Brief from Tee (2026-06-11). Co-Authored-By: Claude Opus 4.8 (1M context) <noreply@anthropic.com>
83 lines
2.7 KiB
Markdown
83 lines
2.7 KiB
Markdown
# Cook & Saw — Lyrics (Version 1: The Main Flex)
|
||
|
||
**Artist:** Mister Bead
|
||
**Track:** Cook & Saw (V1)
|
||
**Length target:** 3:10–3:40
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
```
|
||
TITLE: Cook & Saw
|
||
ARTIST: Mister Bead
|
||
|
||
[INTRO — knife on board (tk-tk-tk), table-saw whir spinning up, ~8 bars]
|
||
(Measure twice…)
|
||
(…cut once.)
|
||
(Mister Bead in the kitchen AND the shop.)
|
||
|
||
[HOOK]
|
||
I cook (I cook), I saw (I saw),
|
||
heat on the pan, blade on the raw.
|
||
Mise en place, then I run through the law —
|
||
real ones build it, fake ones jaw.
|
||
I cook (I cook), I saw (I saw),
|
||
season it slow, then I cut what I draw.
|
||
You perform — me, I plate and I plane,
|
||
Mister Bead make it real, you just talk in the rain.
|
||
|
||
[VERSE 1]
|
||
Sawdust on the apron, garlic on the glove,
|
||
I'm a two-hand craftsman, that's a maker's kind of love.
|
||
Measure twice, cut once — that's the recipe too,
|
||
you can't rush a reduction or a dovetail through.
|
||
Low and slow on the brisket, square and true on the joint,
|
||
every cut got a reason, every season got a point.
|
||
They want the clout with no kerf, want the fame with no flame,
|
||
I got sawmarks on my knuckles and a sear on my name.
|
||
Knife skills, drill bits, same wrist, same calm,
|
||
I plate it like a Sunday and I build it like a barn.
|
||
Oakville cold outside, but the oven keep it warm,
|
||
shop light buzzin' while I weather any storm.
|
||
|
||
[HOOK]
|
||
I cook (I cook), I saw (I saw),
|
||
heat on the pan, blade on the raw.
|
||
Mise en place, then I run through the law —
|
||
real ones build it, fake ones jaw.
|
||
|
||
[VERSE 2]
|
||
They sell a costume, I sell a craft,
|
||
they read a script, I read the grain and the draft.
|
||
You can't fake a roux, can't fake a true edge,
|
||
can't fake the hours that I left on the ledge.
|
||
Rip cut clean, then I plane it 'til it sing,
|
||
deglaze the pan, now the whole kitchen ring.
|
||
I don't need a name to drop, I drop a plate,
|
||
I don't need a crowd to clap, I let the work translate.
|
||
Jigsaw the doubt, simmer down the noise,
|
||
I'm a quiet kind of loud, all substance, no toys.
|
||
Apron strings and sawdust, that's the whole résumé —
|
||
Mister Bead been buildin' dinner and a dynasty.
|
||
|
||
[BRIDGE — foley breakdown: sizzle, sander, whisk, then drums slam back]
|
||
(Hear that? That's the pan. That's the blade.)
|
||
(That's a man with two trades and a debt all paid.)
|
||
Cook it 'til it's tender, cut it 'til it's clean —
|
||
craft is the flex, you just chasin' a screen.
|
||
(I cook… I saw… I cook… I saw…)
|
||
|
||
[FINAL HOOK]
|
||
I cook (I cook), I saw (I saw),
|
||
heat on the pan, blade on the raw.
|
||
Mise en place, then I run through the law —
|
||
real ones build it, fake ones jaw.
|
||
You perform — me, I plate and I plane,
|
||
Mister Bead make it real, you just talk in the rain.
|
||
|
||
[OUTRO — saw winds down, one last knife tk-tk, oven timer ding]
|
||
(Plate up. Shop's closed.)
|
||
I cook… I saw…
|
||
(…and I never had to say it twice.)
|
||
*ding*
|
||
```
|