text: Yeah, yeah, yo
  Gipp keep it slow poke
  Hang out the side with no rope
  Sit in the tub, flick the remote and soak
  Pull up, jump out, and then I strut for her
  And if anybody got problems, Ima cut for her
  In this atmosphere now you can disappear, smoke thick shells
  Bail like tailbacks looking for holes
  Drag my ass down the ave like a cab
  Scar that ass, leave your shirt open like an Arab
  Making money off these breakdown slabs
  We got this zone, get your own
  Better move on before your folk get split, you wont forget
  The DF put it down, now get down or sit down
  Sunday mornin, makes me feel
  So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
  I got it, I got it shorty, its our ball
  I tackle my problems, never run from my foes
  Stiff-arm facemask, hit the juke button, then leave a sucka froze
  Like he just tried to stuff a whole ki up in his nose
  On all fos
  You hit em high, I hit em low, for this dough
  Your heart gon bust out here, cause we comin full speed
  We dig, intend you lift you up off of your feet
  At the lift, of the glass, sippin victory
  Clean cut but I stay dirty
  Uhh, you play fair, I cheat
  I spike this pig in yo face like you never stopped eatin pork
  Or beast, and diseases end careers
  Tenacious on his grill, uh, All-Pro Hall of Famer
  With no fears, blood sweat and tears
  Sunday mornin, makes me feel
  So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
  The rich boy got it bad cause he is rich
  The poor boy got it bad cause he is poor
  The bad boy got it bad cause he want growth
  The good girl got it good cause she got game
  And runs it on undeveloped fellas considered lame
  Same like mechanics do it, baby who need her Buick
  Repaired, dont have no knowledge of what a brake shoe is
  Make woo it, turn to nickle, squirm and tickle
  We wiggle, now your emotions like a dill pickle
  In autumn, fall, into the bottom of black holes
  Make a left on nothingness cause thats where Im at
  Cold as summer, I got yo number, you got my number
  Lets add em, see what we come with maybe we can slumber
  Like uh, beggars and bums and uh, retarded ones, uh
  Dolphins and whales, uh, the smartest ones, so
  Nothing you can do can be new up under the sun
  Depending what sun you live under, you can be the one on
  Sunday mornin, makes me feel
  So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
  Aint no Sunday School this mornin
  They say somebody blowed up the church
  Whats even worse than that
  I heard Pastor Jenkins he got hurt by the
  Perpetrators, demonstrators of violence and hatred
  Its fin to be 2001, the rojo-necks are racist
  Fascists acting savage on the Sabbath must be demons
  Errand boys for Satan defeated when I repeat it
  Rebuke thee, rebuke thee, the look in they eye was spooky
  But now I find myself in the park sittin in my hooptie
  Like a movie, I was daydreamin and everything seemed real
  But now Im at Mozley Park and we got some chicken on the grill
  Get a beer, nigga chill, roll a joint, pop a pill
  Cop a feel, or some cut, as we do it like this here on
  On any given Sunday, all, Atlanta will be born
  A tradition will be broken
  Victory is yours, on any given Sunday
  Sunday mornin, makes me feel
  So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul