Bakin' Soda in Minnesota

[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 Nigga 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 niggas 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...