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ANDRE NICKATINA lyrics - Daiquiri Factory: Cocaine Raps, Vol. 2

Bakin' Soda In Minnesota

Original and similar lyrics
52 carat blue diamond Rhymin', interior designin', grindin' You can shake cheddar like me on the mic 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 fo the shark Nigga cold-hearted We got bakin soda All the way down in minnesota We got bakin soda Down in minnesota 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 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 rhymes used to ride with nets Flight at the midnight high with jets You know Al Capone stretched tryi' to save the sets And I'm teflon down, t shirts and gats 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 tofu, greens and yams Extra-curricula, netting that riddicula Hit the cloud like the bear or the fiddila Shouldn've lied, I coulda been a good friend to ya Now I got to get rid of ya We got bakin soda All the way down in minnesota We got bakin soda Down in minnesota I told my mom somethin' that made her cry Looked her in the eye and said rappers don't die We not gonna have an' tour, but we gon get by So most of us gonna be in hell high, 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 thing, King It's like you got to be bald Cuz hoes and niggaz wanna see you go far I think they mad when I ticks them off But I'm a hyena so I got to laugh and break some off The hot wax that's real fatal Sup'd up to perfection like a weapon on a turntable They say Gretta's got a new baretta And he'll be aiming his gat like a crooked letter, foreva 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 beat all on your block You better knock on the door tiga And lay them all on the floor tiga Cuz 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 The corks in me like the tail of a fox So get the grease hot, nigga Or your tigaz'll be caugh

Last Time

Boot Camp Clik "For the People"
[ Illa Noyz ] You didnt know so let it flow my slang bang ya Crews move to my tunes before the Macarena Consider it danger Mongol slay it play a beat like a perfect stranger Simple and plain give me the lane ahh Catch the beat like grand groove My hustle is mad smooth Tight platoon since the rise of the black moon Since you assume youve seen my sun shining And O.G.C you notice me with Heltah Skeltah vibing Wack venetian blinding Wreck from mine, charged for manslaughtering at times The Bucktown Judy Flow like a swan with rhymes, who you be? The Illa You feel me in your inner I deliver deadly like postmen Im holding Hold up thats an understatement When the beats break it aint no move faking Im more them FBI guys with the rude awakening Further contemplation May lead to some titles being taken When its Noyz your facing Your placed in a stressful situation Chorus: Illa Noyz and Heltah Skeltah And it does Sound ill like noise in Brownsville Yes it does Sound ill like noise in Brownsville Yeah it does Sound ill like noise in Brownsville Yes it does Sound ill like noise in Brownsville [ Ruck] Here I am (here we go) T-A-W L Sean, here to bring trouble to Phony MCs I slap em up with my pistol Try to fuck with Ruck feel the heat from the missile Whats the issue? The issue is the topic at hand Niggas rip and never say shit when the shot in my hand Got the upperhand brotherman Sift through the knowledge God cipher divine rhymes will shine like polish [ Illa Noyz ] Demolish, Ill do just that Abolishing funny style cats with them wack acts Since that has been fact The underdog from the underground Leaves you facedown Like a therapeutic back massage Or police with a bogus charge Im pulling your card To scar is my specialty ( Yo it better be ) See you dont have your cheat sheet for this test So take a guess And become the one to make a rational move upon, you gone Underestimating this Boot Camp bomb Chorus [ Rock] Yo, who is this dufis? Thinking he ruthless Broccoli your toothless Now you sound and look stupid You get your head spun around like a screw just For being the only girl in the town full of men like smurf Edna Little blue bitch Take a foul, fuck your mama Smack her if she never warned you about a walking bombita time-ahh I aint lying ya boys-ahh Thats a fair one ask Illa Noyz ( yup, yup, yup) And like my little nephew I break toys [ Illa Noyz ] The Boot Campian phantoms amp son Some of this mantel dismantle brothers with anthems Cheaters want me like them Champion clothes But home info Stuck inside your head congest like common cold When Im on flipmode Son Rampage the stage amaze after a Spliff Star Lord Have Mercy when I Bust them rhymes bar after bar See my mind spread, Its no longer a hobby Dont try me But I put that ass to beds so pull a Javi Chorus - 4x

Sucker M.C.'s

RUN DMC "Run-D.M.C."
[Run] Two years ago, a friend of mine Asked me to say some MC rhymes So I said this rhyme I'm about to say The rhyme was Def a-then it went this way Took a test to become an MC And Orange Krush became amazed at me So Larry put me inside, his Cad-illac The chaffeur drove off and we never came back Dave cut the record down to the bone And now they got me rockin on the microphone And then we talkin autograph, and here's the laugh Champagne caviar, and bubble bath But see ahh, ah that's the life, ah that I lead And you sucker MC's is who I please So take that and move back catch a heart attack Because there's nothin in the world, that Run'll ever lack I cold chill at a party in a b-boy stance And rock on the mic and make the girls wanna dance Fly like a Dove, that come from up above I'm rockin on the mic and you can call me Run-Love I got a big long Caddy not like a Seville And written right on the side it reads 'Dressed to Kill' So if you see me cruisin girls just a-move or step aside There ain't enough room to fit you all in my ride it's on a, ah first come, first serve basis Coolin out girl, take you to the def places One of a kind and for your people's delight And for you sucker MC, you just ain't right Because you're bitin all your life, you're cheatin on your wife You're walkin round town like a hoodlum with a knife You're hangin on the ave, chillin with the crew And everybody know what you've been through Ah with the one two three, three to two one My man Larry Larr, my name DJ Run We do it in the place with the highs and the bass I'm rockin to the rhythm won't you watch it on my face Go Uptown and come down to the ground You sucker MC's, you bad face clown You five dollar boy and I'm a million dollar man Youse a sucker MC, and you're my fan You try to bite lines, but rhymes are mine Youse a sucker MC in a pair of Calvin Klein Comin from the wackest, part of town Tryin to rap up but you can't get down You don't even know your english, your verb or noun You're just a sucker MC you sad face clown So D.M.C. and if you're ready The people rockin steady You're drivin big cars get your gas from Getti [D.M.C.] I'm D.M.C. in the place to be I go to St. John's University And since kinde-garten I acquired the knowledge And after 12th grade I went straight to college I'm light skinned, I live in Queens And I love eatin chicken and collard greens I dress to kill, I love the style I'm an MC you know who's versatile Say I got good credit in your regards Got my name not numbers on my credit cards I go Uptown, I come back home with who me myself and my microphone All my rhymes are sweet delight So here's another one for y'all to bite When I rhyme, I never quit And if I got a new rhyme I'll just say it Cause it takes a lot, to entertain And sucker MC's can be a pain You can't rock a party with the hip in hop You gotta let em know you'll never stop The rhymes have to make (a lot of sense) You got to know where to start (when the beats commence..)


It's the Urban Organic, Mic mechanic Super-human MC powers help me fly around the planet. Touch the Microphone device, whole countries get frantic Saving damsels in distress so young girls don't panic. Putting MCs under pressure till they crack like ceramic Always thought they could flow but sink like the Titanic. Rhymes rip through your skull like icebergs through the hull Survive the impact, and arctic cold freezes your soul. Create a new style, then break the mold Compositions are controlled, and liable to explode like land mines, my crew blows through like wind chimes. Make it hot like fire, 200 proof like Moonshine. Whisky, playing yourself is risky And the flows mad jazzy like Dizzy Gillespe. And the sound be harmonious and deadly like a harpy call either break one like Wayne Gretzky. No man can test me, so why try? Focus like a samurai, stronger than a Maitai. Or a Tsunama... I mean Tsunami I rock it from MTV, to the BBC. Radioactive waves short out your TV LESB check it for me in the next galaxy. Put it in a time capsule till the next century In a black out use it for electricity. Danger, high voltage Don't feed me their daily dosage I break it down mathematically, 99.9 is a percentage. Like clothes and fine wine my rhymes are vintage And the Universe will give me strength like spinach. With Danish, I eat it like a tofu sandwich With cabbage, I ask your girl, she knows that I'm not the average... Nigga... who plays to pull the trigga' Reality's the root of the rhymes that I configure. Phony... Baloney, swear like Don Corleone But when shit hit the fan they start crying like Pretty Tony. Tender like Roni... but wish to be bad like Bobby Been there, done that, smashed up Rockin' rhymes is my hobby. You're probably, like, what's he on Cause I rock it from the start, till the beat is gone. Not in the mafia but I'm the Microphone Don And the words that I shoot out my mouth are Teflon. Jeru never touch ya, Microphone wrecka' Meet out in the stretcha'. Step up in... my center Try to match wits but the mentor will crush you Jeru the Damager, the Suntoucher.

I'm Hittin' Hard

Kool Moe Dee "Knowledge Is King"
Ladies and gentlemen Gentlemen and ladies Adults teenagers adolescents and babies No if's and's but's or maybe's I want the whole world to rock today Because I said I was and always was The baddest rapper on the mic and I proved it does Make a difference On the way you think you syn- Cronize the wise tries To overcome the dumb the drum Beats a pattern that turns into A catalyst that'll just Grab your ear you had to hear A rhyme's contents Beyond nonsense If you're not convinced Get tense and wince Cause I'll make a skeptic Look epileptic Shake and brake like the Holy Ghost connected His body and soul I control His mind is mine cause my Rhyme holds Minds in limbo You resemble A clone of Jim Jones as them bones tremble Shakin' like a leaf in disbelief No chatterin' teeth Can cease pity or grief I got you flipping like a burger Head spinning like a top Weak at the knees And you're about to drop You can't find your heart You need a warrant to search Get off your knees Boy this ain't church You can pray if you wanna pray Say what you wanna say Did you forget you was ambiguous You're gonna pay For doubting my rhyme You better freeze your thought Cause I read minds If you got caught I taught Lessons for second-guessing Reroute doubt I reprogram and deprogram about Two million fans Through rhytmic hypnosis Left in a state Of cataclysmic neurosis Neurotic from a narcotic Known as rhyme Addicted to rap And you're a fiend for mine For my rap info You're a nympho I'll raise the conscience And then hit them so hard with the rhyme I'ma leave you scarred Cause I don't just hit ya I hit ya hard I weave the bob To do the job Set you up with the left As the right writes hard Lyrics stick and move Behind the groove As the beat gets better The rhyme improves Adversaries prepare for a telling loss Bring a stretcher nurse and the smelling salts My rhyme is more Than a fight or a bout You ain't goin' down Boy you're goin' out No count necessary Cause you ain't gettin' up Bad mouthin' ends very Very very abrupt Thought patterns converted Through overt overtures Prepared your mind Much better for metaphors More rap classics Believe me there's no man Not Bach Brahms Beethoven or Chopin Polonaise would ever faze ya Like I faze ya I amaze ya Ali and Fraizer I Get deja vu from listening to The rhymes that cut like an uppercut And rings a bell too I come out smoking Hard from the first round Stinging like a bee And the bell is the worst sound Cause I don't wanna let up If you can get up I'm fed up The rhymes are sped up To mess your head up When the rhyme is over They tally the scorecard I get more points Cause you hit the floor hard But I'm hittin' hard The very last thing That you remember Is a rhyme in your face And the crowd yell timbre Then you fall in a dopefiend nod Cause I don't just hit ya I hit ya hard When I rain It's more like a hurricane You wanna dis Then think of another name Cause I go to work And my rhymes slam Put me to the test You'll fail the exam Cause that's the kind of test You just can't study for You're guaranteed To end up bloody or Broken twisted Fractured blistered Decapitated mutilated Violated it's the Kind of defeat That you just can't live with Try to compete But you just can't get with The Mental Master Hard-ryhme supremist My words have ya Mixed like a chemist My rhymes flow like H-2-O Cleaned with chlorine To make green so The rhyme is purified You can't drink it Biters and suckers Don't even think it The green I made Is a money shade When the rhyme evaporates I get paid Then it's time to rain With the rhyme I know And like plants Watch my people grow I heal sick minds Like Christ himself Touch the soul Like no one else There's only one President Pope and one God There's only one rapper In that class And I hit ya hard

What's Going On?

Eric B. Rakim "Don't Sweat The Technique"
Kill him again! Try to identufy the man in front of ya But it ain't the role the gear or the money the swift intellectionist with pleny ya bite if it's dark I'll spark every one of ya I throw a mic in the crowd it's a question I got the includes directions: Go manufacture a mask show me after a glass of a master that has to make musical massacre... Attack your wack 'till it's handicapped, you'll never hold the mic again, try to hand it back, cuz every rapper that comes, I cut off his thumbs, put a record to his neck, if he swallows it hums! Slice from ear to ear-so 'till can hear better, Before he bleed to death, here, hear every letter! and you can see quick and thick the blood can get if you try to change the style or the subject; as I get deep in the rhyme I'm becomin' a emcee murderer...before I'm done, I'm a prepare the chamber, the torture's comin' up, Trip through the mind, at the end you'll find it's the punisher.... Kill 'em again! I hold the mic as hostage, emcees are ransome, rhymes'll punish 'em cuz they don't undertsand 'em, I heat up his brain, then explain then I hand him a redhot microphone...that's how I planned 'em, rhymes call information(?), unite midnught(?), like a platoon putting bullet wounds in the mic, if ya curse me, it ain't no mercy, give him a autopsy, killed by a verse of me, I took a kid and cut off his eyelid, kill him slow so he could see what I did, and if he don't understand what I said, I'm pushing his eyeballs way to the back of his head so he can see what he's getting into, a part of the mind that he never been through, a journey is coming cuz ya getting sent to a place harder to find but it's all in the mental, I ran a brainscan to locate his game plan, when I'm through with his brain he ain't the same, man! did he lose his mind or lost in his mind, but this ain't the lost and found because ya can't find your foundation; coasting, your mind is drifting, in slow motion..frozen, looks like another murder at the Mardi Gras, B! Too late to send out a search party, once ya out of ya head then ya can't get back, I give 'em a map, but he still get trapped, so prepare the chamber, the torture's coming up, trip through the mind, at the end you'll find it's The Punisher.... Kill 'em again! Dangerous rhymes (are) performed like surgery, Cuts so deep you'll be bleeding burgundy, My intellect wrecks and disconnects your cerebral cortex, your cerebellum is next! Your conscience becomes sub-conscious, soon your response is nonsense.... the last words are blurred...mumbled then slurred, then your verbs are no longer heard, you get your lung fried so good you're tongue-tied, he couldn't swing or hang so he hung 'till he died, reincarnate him...and kill him again...again and again...again and again... I leave him in the mausoleum so you can see him, I got a dead-MC'ing museum, when I create 'em, I cremate 'em and complicate 'em, you can't save 'em...there's no ultamatum, mic's lay around full of ashes, with the victim's name in slashes, got a long list and I'm a get every one of ya... Beware of The Punisher! Then I'm a kill 'em again! Wake 'em up...kill 'em again!

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