B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad) - Beat Bullies Remix

Original

Yeah, in Slum National

Underground thunder pounds when I stomp the ground

Like a million elephants or silverback orangutans

You can't stop a train

Who want some? Don't come unprepared

I'll be there, but when I leave there

Better be a household name

Weathermen telling us it ain't gon' rain

So now we sitting in a drop-top soaking wet

In a silk suit trying not to sweat

Hitting somersaults without the net

But this be the year that we won't forget

1-9-9-9, Anno Domini

Anything goes, be what you wanna be

Long as you know consequences are given for living

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 scaleless arm and 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

Before you left, ass up to a ball of power

Thoughts at a thousand miles per hour

Hello, ghetto, let your brain breathe

Believe there's always more, ow

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), yeah, ha, ha, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), yeah, ah-ha

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), ha, ha, ha, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)

Uno, dos, tres, it's on

Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone

Like that there, boy, and would still stay street?

Big things happen every time we meet

Like a track team crash, can't die in a geek

OutKast bumping up and down the street

Slant back Cadillac, 'bout five niggas deep

75 MCs 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 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 turn my back on my kids for them

Should've hit it, quit it, rag-top

'Fore you re-up, get a laptop

Make a million for yourself, boy, set some goals

Make a fat diamond out of dusty coal

Wrecking number four, but we on a roll

Hold up, slow up, stop, "Control"

Like Janet, Planet, Stankonia's on ya

Moving like Floyd, come straight to Florida

Lock all your windows, then block the corridors

Pulling off my belt 'cause a whip is in order

Like a three-piece fist 'fore I cut your daughter

Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border

Pitty-pat rappers trying to get to five

But my microphone fiend trying to stay alive

When you come to ATL, boy, you better not hide

'Cause the Dudley family gon' ride, ha

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), oh, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), ah, yeah

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), y'all heard me, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)

So Slum, so Slime, nigga, I'm straight gutter

You can ask my baby mother, she gon' be like, "Nigga shit

He the type to fuck a chick and rob that bitch's baby brother"

And I'm the type to cut your bitch and keep the shit up under cover

Confessions, blessings, living in sin

A few new recruits, we pimping again

Three grams of hard, we flipping again

Now I'm walking dubs on the Benz, yeah

One, two crack fiends

Three dope boys in creased jeans

Four po-po's done hit the scene

Five hot traps on MLK

Lock a thick ho inside 16s

Rubberice, she empty cream

Fuck her right, she'll moan, scream

'Til it's past, still a cow on me

Niggas swerving, serving, bouncing, and bucking

Like a 5.59, still crumping something

Heat too hot, now the semi-rounds are dumping

Grind out the hip when the trap ain't jumping

Keep one bitch nigga just for sucking

Ain't coming out the block banging, I'm down for busting

Come on, come on, yeah, yeah

One, two, come on, yeah

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), oh, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), ah, yeah

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah), y'all heard me, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)

Bombs over Baghdad, yeah

Bombs over Baghdad, yeah