Lyrics Labs
In The Mix Lyrics - Artist : Cool Kids, The
Check, aye
It's in the mix, cake better, better stack it 'fore you flip
Bouta dip, kick crispy like a classic bag of chips
All of that, I need it quick, but take your time, do it right
A magic trick is only if the hand is quicker than the eye
You heard what the man said
Put your cheese together like sandwich bread
With the sauce on it, they just looping and you talking over it
With the cold butter, spread love like grandmothers
Niggas know better (You know better)

It's in the mix, it's in the mix, right
It's in the mix, it's in the mix, right
It's in the mix, we finna whip, right
It's in the mix, that's in the mix, yeah

Slide with me for a minute, let's ride
Looking at the Rollie it's about that time
Checkered flag wave when we cross that line
Our whip look nice, but I'm not that kind
Let me get a little recap on this shit
It's all about money and ownership
Caught a Brett Favre brick from the zone and shit
Might crash the economy over this
These niggas is soft serve, I got folks coming off my nerves, we just different
You ain't gang, maintain your distance
If not, I break down like I was on the Pistons
Open your bag, let's break some bread
Chuck got a little bad thing braiding his hair
We work hard, [?] taking them Ms
Trying to take something from me, that's taking chance
You ain't making it man, you ain't Megaman
Oh, you was sitting down, but you finna stand
You wit' your man smoked out in a minivan
Stood there and got clipped when you could've ran
You another monkey in the middle, you a middle man
Cannon make a real loud sound like a metal band
Yeah, you know I'm good with the hands like the weatherman
Yeah

It's in the mix, it's in the mix, right
It's in the mix, it's in the mix right
It's in the mix, we finna whip, right
It's in the mix, that's in the mix

Purple gelato with the cookie dough
Guy Fieri with the cooking show
Your shorty corny 'cause she hit the woah
I'm Paul Pierce at the stripper show
Five thirty in them traffic jams
A perc thirty in a rapper's hand
A fraud nigga in a Louis belt
That marble ride with the tuna melt, yeah
Bowling ball in that candy paint
Girl your Forces dirty, we could never date
Reverse stir it with the butter base
Put the right amount of sugar in that Kool-Aid
Nigga, get with it

We bringin you on into the temps and we are all doing okay
Woah, seven hundred fifty degrees in Gila Bend right now
And 1270 in Ahwatukee
I'm not authorised to evacuate Ahwatukee, but this temperature seems pretty high

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