Ayy, don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang Uh, hey, don't even bang unless you plan to hit something Ayy, inslumnational, underground Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground Like a million elephants or silverback orangutans You can't stop the train Who want some? Don't come unprepared I'll be there, but when I leave there Better be a household name Weatherman tellin' us it ain't gon' rain Now we sittin' in a drop-top soakin' wet In a silk suit tryin' not to sweat Hit somersaults without the net But this'll be the year that we won't forget The 1-9-9-9 Anno Domini, anything goes Be what you wanna be long as you know Consequences are given for livin' 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 mama Black Cadillac and a pack of Pampers Stack of questions 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 'Fore you 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 more, ah Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang Bombs over Baghdad (Uh, uh, uh) Yeah, don't even bang unless you plan to hit something Bombs over Baghdad Ooh, don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang Bombs over Baghdad (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something Bombs over Baghdad (Oh, ayy) Uno, dos, tres, it's on Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone? Like that there, boy, 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 Slant-back Cadillac, 'bout five niggas deep Seventy-five MC's freestylin' to the beat 'Cause we get crunk, stay drunk at the club Shoulda bought an ounce, but you copped a dub Shoulda held back, but you throwed a punch 'Posed 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 turned my back on my kids for them Should've hit it, quit it, rag-top 'Fore you re-up, get a laptop Make a business for yourself, boy, set some goals Make a fat diamond out of dusty coals Record number four, but we on a roll 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 whipping's in order Like a three-piece fish 'fore I cut your daughter Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border Pitty-pat rappers tryna get to five I'm a microphone fiend tryna stay alive When you come to ATL, boy, you better not hide 'Cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, ha Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang Bombs over Baghdad (Uh, uh, uh) Yeah, don't even bang unless you plan to hit something Bombs over Baghdad Ooh, don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang Bombs over Baghdad (Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy) Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something Bombs over Baghdad (Oh) Power music, electric revival Power music, electric revival Power music, electric revival Power music, electric revival