[Dre]
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1, 2.. 1, 2, 3; yeah!
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In-slum-national, underground
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Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (Woo!)
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Like a million elephants and silverback orangutans
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You can't stop a train
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Who want some? Don't come un-pre-pared
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I'll be there, but when I leave there
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Better be a household name
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Weather man tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
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So now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin wet
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In a silk suit, tryin' not to sweat
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Hits somersaults without the net
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But this'll be the year that we won't forget
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One-Nine-Nine-Nine, Anno Domini anything goes, be whatchu wanna be
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Long as you know consequences, to give and for livin'
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The fence is too high to jump in jail
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Too low to dig, I might just touch hell
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HOT! Get a life, now they on sale
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Then I might cast you a spell, look at what came in the mail
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A scale and some Arm and Hammer, soul gold grill and some baby mama
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Black Cadillac and a pack of pampers
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Stack of question with no answers
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Cure for cancer, cure for AIDS
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Make a nigga wanna stay on tour for days
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Get back home, things are wrong
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Well not really it was bad all along
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before he left adds up, to a ball of power
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Thoughts at a thousands miles per hour
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Hello, ghetto, let your brain breathe,
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believe there's always more, ahhhhh!
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[Chorus: 2X]
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[Dre] Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
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[Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
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[Dre] Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
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Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
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[Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
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[Dre] Yeah! Uhh-huh
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[Big Boi]
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Uno, dos, tres, it's on
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Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?
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Like that there boy and we still stay street
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Big things happen every time we meet
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Like a track team, crack fiend, dyin to geek
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Outkast bumpin' up and down the street
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Slant back, Cadillac, 'bout five nigga deep
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Seventy-five MC's freestylin' to the beat
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Cause we get drunk, stay drunk, at the club
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Should have bought an ounce, but you copped a dub
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Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
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'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunch
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No D to-the U to-the G for you
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Got a son on the way by the name of Bamboo
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Got a little baby girl four year, Jordan
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Never turn my back on my kids for them
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Should have hit it (hit it) quit it (quit it) rag (rag) top (top)
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Before you RE up, get a laptop
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Make a business for yourself, boy, set some goals
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Make a fat diamond out of dusty coals
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Record number four, but we on the road
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Hold up, slow up, stop, control
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Like Janet, Planets, Stankonia is on ya
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A movin' like Floyd commin' straight to Florida
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Lock all your windows then block the corridors
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Pullin' off on bell 'cause a whippins in order
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I like a three piece fish before I cut your daughter
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Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border
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Pity pap rappers tryin' to get the five
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I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay alive
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When you come to ATL boi you better not hide
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cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, hah!
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[Chorus: 2X]
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[Dre] Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
|
[Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
|
[Dre] Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
|
Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
|
[Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
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[Dre] Yeah! Uhh-huh
|
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[Choir]
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Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
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Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
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Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
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Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
|
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[Dre]
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B-I-G, B-O-I
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An-An-Andre
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To the T-O-P
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[Dre and Big Boi: 15X]
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Bob your head. Rag top.
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(1, 2.. 1, 2, 3, 4) (Gimme some)
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[Choir: 23X]
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Power music. Electric revival.
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-----------------
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B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad)
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Outkast |