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Outkast

B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad)

  hip-hop  rap  hip hop  funk  soul
1,300 3 часа назад

Текст песни Outkast - B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad)

Outkast - B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad) слова песни

[Dre]1, 2.. 1, 2, 3; yeah!In-slum-national, undergroundThunder pounds when I stomp the ground (Woo!) Like a million elephants with silverback orangutansYou can`t stop a trainWho want some? Don`t come un-pre-paredI`ll be there, but when I leave thereBetter 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 sweatHits somersaults without the netBut this`ll be the year that we won`t forgetOne-Nine-Nine-Nine, Ano Domini, anything goes, be whatchu wanna beLong as you know consequences are given for livin - the fence istoo high to jump in jailToo low to dig, I might just touch hell - HOT!Get a life, now they gon` sellThen I might catch you a spell, look at what came in the mailA scale and some Arm and Hammer, so grow grid and some baby mбmaBlack Cadillac and a pack of pampersStack of question 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 along before you left adds up to a ball of powerThoughts at a thousands miles per hourHello, ghetto, let your brain breatheBelieve there`s always mo`, OWWWW!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[Big Boi]Uno, dos, tres, it`s onDid you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?Like that there boi and will still stay streetBig things happen every time we meetLike a track team, crack fiend, dyin to geekOutkast bumpin` up and down the streetSlam back, Cadillac, `bout five nigga deepSeventy-five emcee`s freestylin` to the beatCause we get krunk, stay drunk, at the clubShould have bought an ounce, but you caught the dubShould have held back, but you throwed the punch`Spose 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 (hit it) quit it (quit it) rag (rag) top (top)Before you read up, get a laptopMake a business for yourself, boy, set some goalsMake a fair diamond out of dusty coalsRecord number four, but we on a rollHold up, slow up, stop, +Control+like Janet, planets, Stankonia`s on yaMovin like Floyd comin` straight to FloridaLock all your windows then block the corridorsPullin off a belt `cause a whipping`s in orderLike a three-piece just `fore I cut your daughterYo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the borderPenny pap rappers tryin` to get the fiveI`m a microphone fiend tryin` to stay aliveWhen you come to ATL boi you betta not hide 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} Bombs over Baghdad! YeahBombs over Baghdad! YeahBombs over Baghdad! YeahBombs over Baghdad! Yeah[Dre]B-I-G, B-O-IAn-An-AndreTo the T-O-P[Dre and Big Boi]: 15XBob your head. Rag top.(1, 2.. 1, 2, 3, 4) (Gimme some){Choir}: 23XPo-wer music, electric revival

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