Bakin’ Soda in Minnesota lyrics

[Verse 1]
52 carat blue diamond
Rhymin', interior designin', grindin'
Nicka shake cheddar like men at mice
Hit your point, hold your money when you're rollin' the dice, baby
Uhh.. either you go crash-and-burn
Or wake up in the morning with cash to earn, tiga
Check it homie get good with me
If just I can find your hood again
Who is that in the car? yo couldn't be
All the way out here, yeah Nicki t
Russian, get the weed sparked
Get the party started
And watch yo back for the shark
n*gga cold-hearted

[Hook]
We got bakin' soda
All the way down in minnesota
We got bakin' soda
Down in minnesota

[Verse 2]
I got a fetish for Adidas, boss
But I betcha don't know what my Fila's cost, do ya
On chew, like dem baby pit bulls
And ain't no way you can touch my....cool
The 12th floor at the Marriot
You know, me and my tigaz chill there a lot
Fetti
I sit alone when the mic's on
With Tyson every time that the fight's on, kill 'em
I remember I used to ride with nets
Flight at the midnight high as the jets
You know Al Capone suite gonna to save the set
And I'm teflon down, t-shirt and Guess
Rhymes you can taste, rhymes, rhymes galore
Rhymes you can buy at the candy store
You know who I am, I'm like credit card scam
Hot like soul food, greens and yams
Extra-curricular, netting the particular
Hit the clouds like the mayor or the senator
Shouldn't've lied, I coulda been a good friend to ya
Now I got to get rid of ya
Get gone
[Hook]

[Verse 3]
I told my mom something that made her cry
Looked her in the eye and said rappers don't die
We knock on heaven's door but we don't get by
So most of us gonna be in hell hot, kickin'
Now put the rhyme on a triple beam
Now rock it up, and chop it up
And try to grind into triple cream
Don't get caught with the same scheme
Meaning don't get caught with the same things, King
It's like you got to be boss
Cause hoes and n*ggas wanna see you go fall
I think they laugh when I take the loss
But I'm a hyena so I got to laugh that breaks them off
The hot wax that's real fatal
Cooked up to perfection like a weapon on a turntable
They say Vetta's got a new beretta
And he'll be aiming his gat like a crooked letter, forever
I hit the night like stormy weather
And if you brag about your freak, I'mma say mine's way better
I rotate like the hands of a clock
And find ways to make my rap be part of your block
You better knock on the door tiga
And lay them all on the floor tiga
Cause I think they want more tiga
I blow 'em out like a flat tire
And hit the weed for Richard Pryor
Then call 'em all straight liars
It's worth something like the tail of a fox
So keep the streets hot 'til you know your tiga...