Lyrics:
green stuff
Provided to you by sack man
Pacman how in the fuck do you think we gon' do that, man?
Ridin' round Old National on eighteens without no
Piece by piece, this puzzle comes together
Sever your ties with the bad guys, let the lies go
If you wanna be a hoe, go 'head and don't be scared
can only agree
And somehow I saw Bob with a knife
And he was ready to do it
He was ready to end his life
I hugged him, begged him not to continue
We made Oklahoma a little after three
Randy, his brother Bob, and my old GFC
We had some moonshine whiskey and some of Bob's homegrown
We were so
DJ got killed
The fire marsh,
Fire Marshall
Shut'er down,time to go!
OutKast royalty by design of logo
Wanna count it out loud?
93, 94, 95, 96
Plus
around me
(guilt-guilty by association)
I heard you were snitches so
Don't come around me
(guilt-guilty by association)
I heard you talkin lick
Don't talk
vocals
Locales done made it with them big boys up in this industry
"OutKast, yeah, them niggas, they makin' big noise"
Over a million sold to this day,
vocals
Locales done made it with them big boys up in this industry
"OutKast, yeah, them niggas, they makin' big noise"
Over a million sold to this day,
slang shots
Hit G spots by giving hoes back shots
I'm a young country boy, long socks with flip flops
But I pull up on your block in the 500 Benz drop
vocals
Locales done made it with them big boys up in this industry
"Outkast, yeah, them niggas, they makin' big noise"
Over a million sold to this day,
is like that green stuff
Provided to you by sack man
Pacman how in the fuck do you think we gon' do that, man?
Ridin' round Old National
I tried to break away from you
From the spics and blacks and the gum you chew
Where the posters are torn by the muggin' gangs
By the faggy park
I never fit in I was a outcast
In grade school out blasting my Outkast
And I'll pass on running to catch a route pass
Gimme a pen and a pad I'm tryna
a drive-by
I got up in them draws and I told her bye bye
About two weeks later, she called me with some bullshit
Talking 'bout her period late, guess what I
That's my friend and my friend's named Bob
Like the devil knows hell I know Bob well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his '67 smells
Well enough to tell
That's my friend and my friend's named Bob
Like the devil knows hell I know Bob well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his '67 smells
Well enough to tell
my friend and my friend's name is Bob
Like the devil knows hell, I know Bob that well
Well enough to tell you 'bout his sixty-seven smells
Well enough
for thirteen days
And I came to get relief
At Bob's Party Time.
Pack my nose with cocaine
Feed my filthy hole.
Bust out the dancin' women
Tailgate Trombone Bob
Words & Music by Erika Paul
From the cd entitled, "Scat's My Bag"
What's that big belled instrument?
That sounds like
He spent 15 years
Getting loaded for 15 years
Till his liver exploded
Now what's Bob gonna do
Now that he cant drink?
The Doctor said:
Yeah I got that thing tucked don't become a bystander
Feel like Bob the Builder with my hammer
That red light mean, I'm recording with my camera
coolin'
Twist it up, puttin' on OutKast
Hunnid, Texas heat, and yeah, we cruisin'
But when I love you right, I love you right
All by yourself
But
people in a sea of distress
Keep your more to receive your less
Unimpressed by material excess
Love is free, love me, say, "Hell yes"
Low brow but I
people in a sea of distress
Keep your more to receive your less
Unimpressed by material excess
Love is free, love me, say, "Hell yes"
Low brow but I
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