B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad) - Acappella

Lyrics

Yeah, inslumnational underground
 Thunder pounds, when I stomp the ground (woo)
 Like a million elephants or silverback orangutans
 You can't stop a train
 Who wants 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
 So now we sittin' in a droptop, soakin' wet
 In a silk suit tryin' not to sweat
 Hittin' 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 want to 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 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 yo' brain breathe
 Believe there's always mo', 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
 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 we 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
 75 MC's freestylin' 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 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 b'ness 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
 Movin' 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 tryin' to get the five
 I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay alive
 When you come A-T-L, boy, you better not hide
 'Cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, ha-ha
 Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang
 (Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) ah, 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 over, yeah
 Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
 (Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)
 Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
 Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
 Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
 Bombs over Baghdad, yeah
 

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
02:58
Key
10
Tempo
77 BPM

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