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Artist/Band:
Outkast
Lyrics for Song: B.O.B.
Lyrics for Album: Big Boi and Dre Present... OutKast [2001]
1...2...
123 YEAH
Inslumnational
Underground thunder pounds
When I stomp the ground
[WHOOO!]
Like a million elephants
or silver-back orangatangs
You can't stop the train
Who want some?
Don't come unprepared
I'll be there
But when I leave there
Better be a household name
Weatherman tellin' us it ain't gon rain
So now we sittin' in a drop-top
Soakin' wet
In a silk suit tryin' not to sweat
Hit somersaults without the net
But will this be the year that we won't forget
1-9-9-9
Anno Domini
Anything goes
Be what you wanna be
Long as you know
Consequences are given for leapin'
The fence is
Too high to jump in jail
Too low to dig you might just touch hell
HOT
Get a life now they on sale
Then I might catch you a spell
Look at what came in the mail
A scale and some Arm and Hammer
Soul gold grill and a baby mamma
Black Cadillac and a pack of Pampers
Stack of questions with no answers
Cure for cancer
Cure for aids
Make a nigga wanna stay on tour for days
Get back home
Things are wrong
Well not really it was bad all along
Before you left adds up to a ball of power
Thousands and thousand miles per hour
Hello ghetto let your brain breathe
Believe there's always more
AAAAHHHHH!
Don't pull that thang out
Unless you plan to bang
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
Don't even bang
Unless you plan to hit something
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
Don't pull that thang out
Unless you plan to bang
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
Don't even bang
Unless you plan to hit something
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
Uno, dos, tres, it's on
Did you ever think a pimp
Rock a microphone
Like that there boi
And we still stay street
Big things happen every time we meet
Like a track team, crack fiend
Tryin to geek
Outkast bumpin up and down the street
Slant back Cadillac about five niggas deep
Seventy-five MCs
Free-stylin' to the beat
Cause we get crunk, stay drunk at the club
Should've bought an ounce
But you copped a dub
Should've held back
But you brought the punch
Supposed to meet your girl
But you packed the lunch
No D to the U to the G for you
Got a son on the way by the name of Bamboo
Gotta little baby girl four years Jordan
Never turned my back on my kids for them
Should've hit it, quit it, rag top
Before you RE up, get a laptop
Make business for yourself boy
Set some goals
Make a fair diamond
Out of dusy coals
Records number four, but we on a roll
Hold up, slow up, stop, control
Like Janet, Planet Stankonia's on ya
Moving like Floyd comin straight to Florida
Lock all the windows
Then block the corridors
Pullin off my belt cuz a whippings in order
Like a three piece suit
Before I cut your daughter
Yo quiero Taco Bell then I hit the border
Pity pat rappers
Trying to get the five
I'm a microphone fiend
Tryin' to stay alive
When you come to ATL
Boy you better not hide
Cause the dungeon family
Gon ride, HIGH!
Don't pull that thang out
Unless you plan to bang
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
Don't even bang
Unless you plan to hit something
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
Don't pull that thang out
Unless you plan to bang
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
Don't even bang
Unless you plan to hit something
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
BOMBS OVER BAGHDAD...YEAH
(Repeat)
Break down
Rock your head, rag top
(Repeat)
Power music
Electric revival
(Repeat)
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| Album Lyrics: Big Boi and Dre Present... OutKast [2001] |
Outkast
"Big Boi and Dre Present... OutKast [2001]"
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