text: One, two
  One, two, three, yeah!
  Inslumnational, underground
  Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground 
  Like a million elephants or silverback orangutan
  You cant stop the train
  Who want some dont come unprepared
  Ill be there, but when I leave there
  Bet Ill be a household name
  Weather man tellin us it aint gon rain
  So now we sittin in a drop-top, soakin wet
  In a silk suit, tryin not to sweat
  Hit somersaults without the net
  But thisll be the year that we wont forget
  1-9-9-9 Anno Domini, anything goes
  Be what you wanna be as 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
  Before you left adds up to a ball of power
  Thoughts at a thousand miles per hour
  Hello, ghetto, let your brain breathe
  Believe theres always more, ha!
  Dont pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Yeah, dont even bang unless you plan to hit something
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Dont pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Yeah, dont even bang unless you plan to hit something
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Uno, dos, tres, its 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 dying to geek
  OutKast bumpin 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
  Shouldve bought an ounce, but you copped a dub
  Shouldve held back, but you throwed the punch
  Supposed 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
  Shouldve hit it, quit it, rag-top
  Before you re-up, get a laptop
  Make a business for yourself, boy, set some goals
  Make a fat diamond out of dusty coal
  Record number four, but we on a roll
  Hold up, slow up, stop, Control
  Like Janet, Planet, Stankonias on ya
  Moving like Floyd, comin straight to Florida
  Lock all your windows, then block the corridors
  Pullin off my belt cause a whippings in order
  Like a three-piece fish before I cut your daughter
  Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border
  Pitty-pat rappers trying to get to five
  Im a microphone fiend tryin to stay alive
  When you come to ATL, boy, you better not hide
  Cause the Dungeon Family gon ride, ha!
  Dont pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Yeah, dont even bang unless you plan to hit something
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Dont pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Yeah, dont even bang unless you plan to hit something
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Bombs over Baghdad!
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Bob your head, rag-top
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival
  Power music, electric revival