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 m?ma
 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