Been there

Put your bib on,
Get your fork and spoon ready
I'm making dinner, bitches
And I'm not making spaghetti
I'm setting out a plate
Making you eat all your words
I'm sick of being stepped on
Revenge is for dessert
My apron is stitched of cotton
Picked by dirty hands under a hot sun
Your parents always spoiled you
Never working, you're their only one
In this kitchen, you'll learn respect
How to cook, clean, and behave
These are words you need to abide by
You need to take them to your grave
We don't need the bible, we don't need a handbook
Just let me put you through some hard times
And you'll come out, with dirty hands, but you'll stop judging books by their spines