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| Outkast - Bombs Over Baghdad 1, 2.. 1, 2, 3; yeah! In-slum-national, underground, Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground, (Woo!) Like a million elephants with silverback orangutans, You can't stop a train, Who want some? Don't come un-pre-pared, I'll be there, but when I leave there, Better be a household name, Weather man 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, Hittin' somersaults without the net, But this'll be the year that we won't forget, One-Nine-Nine-Nine, and brutha anything goes, be what 'chu wanna be, Long as you know consequences are given for livin' defenses, Too high to jump in jail, Too low to dig, I might just touch hell, HOT! Get a life, now they gon' sell, Then I might catch you a spell, look at what came in the mail, A scale and some Arm and Hammer, so grow grid and some baby máma, Black Cadillac and a pack of pampers, Stack of question 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, Thoughts at a thousands miles per hour, Hello, ghetto, let your brain breathe, Believe there's always mo', Oww! (Chorus 2x) Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang, Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah! Ha ha yeah! Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something, Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah! Uhh-huh, Uno, dos, tres, it's on, Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone? Like that there boi and will still stay street, Big things happen every time we meet, Like a track team, crack fiend, dyin to geek, Outkast bumpin' up and down the street, Slam back, Cadillac, 'bout five nigga deep, Seventy-five emcee's freestylin' to the beat, Cause we get krunk, stay drunk, at the club, Should have bought an ounce, but you caught the dub, Should have held back, but you throwed the punch, 'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunch, No D to-the U to-the G for you, Got a son on the way by the name of Bamboo, Got a little baby girl four year, Jordan, Never turn my back on my kids for them, Should have hit it (hit it) quit it (quit it) rag (rag) top (top), Before you read up, get a laptop, Make a business for yourself, boy, set some goals, Make a fair diamond out of dusty coals, Record number four, but we on a roll, Hold up, slow up, stop, control, Like Janet, planets, Stankonia is only, A movin' like floor commin' straight to Florida, Lock all your windows then block the quarters, Pullin' off on bell 'cause a whippins in order, Like a three piece fist, 'fore I cut your daughter, Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border, Penny pap rappers tryin' to get the five, I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay alive, When you come to ATL boi you better not hide, Cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, hah!, Repeat Chorus (2x) Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah, Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah, Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah, Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah, B-I-G, B-O-I, An-An-Andre, To the T-O-P, Bob your head. Rag top. (15x) Po-wer music, electric revival (28x) |
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