Andre Nickatina - Bakin' Soda In Minnesota Lyrics
52 carat blue diamondRhymin', interior designin', grindin'You can shake cheddar like me on the micHit your point, hold your money when you're rollin' the dice, babyUhh.. either you go crash-and-burnOr wake up in the morning with cash to earn, tigaCheck it homie get good with meIf just i can find your hood againWho is that in the car? yo couldn't beAll the way out here, yeah Nicki tRussian, get the weed sparkedGet the party startedAnd watch yo back fo the sharkNigga cold-heartedWe got bakin sodaAll the way down in minnesotaWe got bakin sodaDown in minnesotaI got a ***** for Adidas, bossBut I betcha don't know what my Fila's cost, do yaOn chew, like dem baby pit bullsAnd ain't no way you can touch my....coolThe 12th floor at the MarriotYou know, me and my tigaz chill there a lotFettiI sit alone when the mic's onWith Tyson every time that the fight's on, kill 'emI remember rhymes used to ride with netsFlight at the midnight high with jetsYou know Al Capone stretched tryi' to save the setsAnd I'm teflon down, t shirts and gatsRhymes you can taste, Rhymes, Rhymes galoreRhymes you can buy at the candy storeYou know who I am, I'm like credit card scamHot like tofu, greens and yamsExtra-curricula, netting that riddiculaHit the cloud like the bear or the fiddilaShouldn've lied, I coulda been a good friend to yaNow i got to get rid of yaWe got bakin sodaAll the way down in minnesotaWe got bakin sodaDown in minnesotaI told my mom somethin' that made her cryLooked her in the eye and said rappers don't dieWe not gonna have an' tour, but we gon get bySo most of us gonna be in hell high, kickin'Now put the rhyme on a triple beamNow rock it up, and chop it up,And try to grind into triple creamDon't get caught with the same schemeMeaning don't get caught with the same thing, KingIt's like you got to be baldCuz hoes and niggaz wanna see you go farI think they mad when I ticks them offBut I'm a hyena so i got to laugh and break some offThe hot wax that's real fatalSup'd up to perfection like a weapon on a turntableThey say Gretta's got a new barettaAnd he'll be aiming his gat like a crooked letter, forevaI hit the night like stormy weatherAnd if you brag about your freak, i'mma say mine's way betterI rotate like the hands of a clockAnd find ways to make my rap beat all on your blockYou better knock on the door tigaAnd lay them all on the floor tigaCuz i think they want more tigaI blow em out like a flat tireAnd hit the weed for Richard PryorThen call em all straight liarsThe corks in me like the tail of a foxSo get the grease hot, niggaOr your tigaz'll be caught
