[Dre]
  1, 2.. 1, 2, 3; yeah!
  Inter-national, underground
  Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (Woo!)
  Like a million elephants with silverback orangutans
  You can't stop a train
  Who want some? Don't come un-pre-pared
  I'll be there, but when I leave there
  Better be a household name
  Weather man tellin' us it ain't gon' rain
  So now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin wet
  In a silk suit, tryin' not to sweat
  Hits somersaults without the net
  But this'll be the year that we won't forget
  One-Nine-Nine-Nine, and brutha anything goes, be whatchu wanna be
  Long as you know consequences, to give and for livin' defenses
  Too hot, I'm jumpin' jail
  Too low to dig, I might just touch hell
  HOT! Get a life, now they gon' sell
  Then I might catch you a spell, look at what came in the mail
  A scale and some Arm and Hammer, so grow grid and some baby mńma
  Black Cadillac and a pack of pampers
  Stack of question with no answers
  Cure for cancer, cure for AIDS
  Make a nigga wanna stay on tour for days
  Get back home, things are wrong
  We're not really able to spend all alone
  before he left, (?), to a ball of power
  Thousands of thousands miles per hour
  Hello, ghetto, let your brain breathe,
  believe there's always more, ahhhhh!
    [Chorus: 2X]
  [Dre] Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
  [Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
  [Dre] Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
  Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
  [Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
  [Dre] Yeah! Uhh-huh
    [Big Boi]
  Uno, dos, tres, it's on
  Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?
  Like that there boi and will 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
  Slam back, Cadillac, 'bout five nigga deep
  Seventy-five emcee's freestylin' to the beat
  Cause we get krunk, stay drunk, at the club
  Should have bought an ounce, but you caught the dub
  Should have held back, but you throwed the punch
  'Spose 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 have hit it (hit it) quit it (quit it) rag (rag) top (top)
  Before you read up, get a laptop
  Make a business for yourself, boy, set some goals
  Make a fair diamond out of dusty coals
  Record number four, but we on a roll
  Hold up, slow up, stop, control
  Like Janet, planets, Stankonia is only
  A movin' like floor commin' straight to Florida
  Lock all your windows then block the quarters
  Pullin' off on bell 'cause a whippins in order
  Like a three piece fist, 'fore I cut your daughter
  Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border
  Penny pap rappers tryin' to get the five
  I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay alive
  When you come to ATL boi you better not hide
  cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, hah!
    [Chorus: 2X]
  [Dre] Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bang
  [Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
  [Dre] Yeah! Ha ha yeah!
  Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something
  [Choir] Bombs over Baghdad!
  [Dre] Yeah! Uhh-huh
    [Choir]
  Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
  Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
  Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
  Bombs over Baghdad! Yeah
    [Dre]
  B-I-G, B-O-I
  An-An-Andre
  To the T-O-P
    [Dre and Big Boi: 15X]
  Bob your head. Rag top.
    (1, 2.. 1, 2, 3, 4) (Gimme some)
    [Choir: 23X]
  Bible music. Electric revival.