[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 with 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, Ano Domini, anything goes, be whatchu wanna be
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Long as you know consequences are given for livin - the fence is
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too high to jump in jail
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Too low to dig, I might just touch hell - HOT!
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Get a life, now they gon' sell
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Then I might catch you a spell, look at what came in the mail
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A scale and some Arm and Hammer, so grow grid and some baby máma
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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 you 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 mo', OWWWW!
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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 boi and will 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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Slam back, Cadillac, 'bout five nigga deep
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Seventy-five emcee's freestylin' to the beat
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Cause we get krunk, stay drunk, at the club
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Should have bought an ounce, but you caught the dub
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Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
|
'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 read up, get a laptop
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Make a business for yourself, boy, set some goals
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Make a fair diamond out of dusty coals
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Record number four, but we on a roll
|
Hold up, slow up, stop, +Control+
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like Janet, planets, Stankonia's on ya
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Movin like Floyd comin' straight to Florida
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Lock all your windows then block the corridors
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Pullin off a belt 'cause a whipping's in order
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Like a three-piece just 'fore I cut your daughter
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Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border
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Penny 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 betta not hide
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cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, hah!
|
|
Chorus: 2X
|
[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!
|
{Dre} Yeah! Uhh-huh
|
|
{Choir}
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Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
|
Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
|
Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
|
Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
|
|
[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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Po-wer music, electric revival
|
|
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-----------------
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Bombs Over Bagdad
|
| Outkast |
