[Intro: André 3000]One, twoOne, two, three, yeah![Verse 1: André 3000]Inslumnational undergroundThunder pounds when I stomp the ground (woo)Like a million elephants and silverback orangutansYou can't stop a trainWho want some? Don't come unpreparedI'll be there, but when I leave thereBet I be a household nameWeather man tellin' us it ain't gon' rainSo now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin' wetIn a silk suit, tryin' not to sweatHit somersaults without the netBut this'll be the year that we won't forget(1-9-9-9) Anno Domini, anything goes, be what you wanna beLong as you know consequences are given for livin', The fence is too high to jump in jailToo low to digI might just touch hell—hotGet a life, now they on saleThen I might cast you a spellLook at what came in the mailA scale and some Arm and HammerSoul gold grill and a baby mamaBlack Cadillac and a pack of PampersStack of questions with no answersCure for cancer, cure for AIDSMake a nigga wanna stay on tour for daysGet back home, things are wrongWell, not really, it was bad all alongBefore you left adds up to a ball of powerThoughts at a thousand miles per hourHello, ghetto, let your brain breatheBelieve there's always more, ah![Hook 2x: André 3000 + Morris Brown College Gospel Choir]Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bangBombs over Baghdad!Yeah, don't even bang unless you plan to hit somethingBombs over Baghdad![Verse 2: Big Boi]Uno, dos, tres, it's onDid you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?Like that there boy and will still stay streetBig things happen every time we meetLike a track team, crack fiend, dyin' to geekOutKast bumping up and down the streetSlantback Cadillac, 'bout 5 niggas deep75 MC's freestyling to the beat'Cause we get crunk, stay drunk at the clubShould have bought an ounce, but you copped a dubShould have held back, but you throwed a punchSupposed to meet your girl but you packed a lunchNo D to the U to the G for youGot a son on the way by the name of BambooGot a little baby girl four year, JordanNever turn my back on my kids for themShould have hit it, quit it, rag topBefore you re-up, get a laptopMake a business for yourself, boy, set some goalsMake a fat diamond out of dusty coalsRecord number four, but we on a rollHold up, slow up, stop, "Control"Like Janet, plan it, Stankonia's on yaMoving like Floyd, coming straight to FloridaLock all your windows then block the corridorsPulling off a belt 'cause a whipping's in orderLike a three-piece fish 'fore I cut your daughterYo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the borderPitty pat rappers trying to get to 5I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay aliveWhen you come to ATL, boy, you better not hide'Cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, hah![Hook 2x: André 3000 + Morris Brown College Gospel Choir]Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bangBombs over Baghdad!Yeah, don't even bang unless you plan to hit somethingBombs over Baghdad![Morris Brown College Gospel Choir:]Bombs over Baghdad! [4x][Outro: André 3000 + Morris Brown College Gospel Choir]Bob your head, rag top [16x]Power music, electric revival [10x]
Слова и текст песни OutKast - B.O.B принадлежит его авторам.