B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad) lyrics

Artist	Outkast
Album(s)	Stankonia

Lyrics

Intro:
1,2,
1,2,3

Verse 1:
Yeah!
Inslumnational underground
Thunder pounds
When I stomp the ground.(wooh)
Like a million elephants
Or silver back
Orangutangs
You can't stop the train
Who wants some?
Don't come unprepared
I'll be there
But when I leave there
Better be a household name
The weatherman tellin' us
It ain't gon' rain
So now we sittin in a droptop
Soaking wet
In a silk suit trying
Not to sweat
Hittin' somersaults with-
Out the net
But this'll be the year that we
Wont forget
1-9-9-9!
Anno domini
Anything goes!
Be what you want to be
Long as you know
Consequences
Are given for liv-
Ing the fence is
Too high to jump in jail
Too low to dig
I might just touch hell
Hot!
Get a life
Now they on sale
Then I might cast you a spell
Look at what came in the mail
A scale and some arm & 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 want to stay on tour for days
Get back home
Thangs are wrong
Well not
Really it was bad all along
Before your left adds up to a
Ball of power
Thoughts at a thousand miles per hour
Hello, ghetto
Let your brain breathe
Believe there's always mo'
(Owwww!)

Hook:
Don't pull the 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!)
[Repeat x2]

Verse2:
Uno, dos, tres
It's on
Did you ever think a pimp
Rock a microphone?
Like that there boy
And we still stay street
Big things happen every time we meet
Like a track team, crack fiend
Dying to geek
Outkast bumpin up and down the street
Slant back cadillac
About five niggaz deep
Seventy-five mc's
Freestyling 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 threw the punch
Supposed 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 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 a buisiness for yourself, boy
Set some goals
Make a fat diamond out of dusty coals
Record number four
But we on the road
Hold up, slow up, stop, control
Like janet, planet stankonia's
On ya
Moving like floyd
Comin' straight to florida
Lock all your windows
Then block the corridors
Pullin off my belt
'Cause a whippings in order
I'd like a three-piece fish
Before I cut your daughter
Yo quiero taco bell
Then I hit the border
Piti pat rappers trying to get the five
I'm a microphone fiend
Tryin to stay alive
When you come to a town
Boy you better not hide
'Cause the dungeon family gon' ride
Ha!

( Hook )

Break down:
Bob your head, rag top
[Repeat x16]

Vamp:
Power music, electric revival
[Repeat x23]

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