Testi musica canzoni

1, 2.. 1, 2, 3; yeah!Inter-national, undergroundThunder pounds when I stomp the ground (Woo!)Like a million elephants with silverback orangutansYou can't stop a trainWho want some? Don't come un-pre-paredI'll be there, but when I leave thereBetter be a household nameWeather man tellin' us it ain't gon' rainSo now we sittin' in a drop-top, soakin wetIn a silk suit, tryin' not to sweatHits somersaults without the netBut this'll be the year that we won't forgetOne-Nine-Nine-Nine, and brutha anything goes, be whatchu wanna beLong as you know consequences, to give and for livin' defensesToo hot, I'm jumpin' jailToo low to dig, I might just touch hellHOT! Get a life, now they gon' sellThen I might catch you a spell, look at what came in the mailA scale and some Arm and Hammer, so grow grid and some baby mámaBlack Cadillac and a pack of pampersStack of question with no answersCure for cancer, cure for AIDSMake a nigga wanna stay on tour for daysGet back home, things are wrongWe're not really able to spend all alonebefore he left, and you, to a ball of powerThousands of thousands miles per hourHello, ghetto, let your brain breathe,believe there's always more, ahhhhh!Chorus:Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bangBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Ha ha yeah!Don't even bang unless you plan to hit somethingBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Uhh-huhChorus:Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bangBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Ha ha yeah!Don't even bang unless you plan to hit somethingBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Uhh-huhUno, dos, tres, it's onDid you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?Like that there boi and will still stay streetBig things happen every time we meetLike a track team, crack fiend, dyin to geekOutkast bumpin' up and down the streetSlam back, Cadillac, 'bout five nigga deepSeventy-five emcee's freestylin' to the beatCause we get krunk, stay drunk, at the clubShould have bought an ounce, but you caught the dubShould have held back, but you throwed the punch'Spose to meet your girl but you packed a lunchNo D to-the U to-the G for youGot a son on the way by the name of BambooGot a little baby girl four year, JordanNever turn my back on my kids for themShould have hit it (hit it) quit it (quit it) rag (rag) top (top)Before you read up, get a laptopMake a business for yourself, boy, set some goalsMake a fair diamond out of dusty coalsRecord number four, but we on a rollHold up, slow up, stop, controlLike Janet, planets, Stankonia is onlyA movin' like floor commin' straight to FloridaLock all your windows then block the quartersPullin' off on bell 'cause a whippins in orderLike a three piece fist, 'fore I cut your daughterYo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the borderPenny pap rappers tryin' to get the fiveI'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay aliveWhen you come to ATL boi you better not hidecause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, hah!Chorus:Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bangBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Ha ha yeah!Don't even bang unless you plan to hit somethingBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Uhh-huhChorus:Don't pull the thang out, unless you plan to bangBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Ha ha yeah!Don't even bang unless you plan to hit somethingBombs over Baghdad!Yeah! Uhh-huhBombs over Baghdad! YeahBombs over Baghdad! YeahBombs over Baghdad! YeahBombs over Baghdad! YeahB-I-G, B-O-IAn-An-AndreTo the T-O-PBob your head. Rag top.Repeat 15x(1, 2.. 1, 2, 3, 4) (Gimme some)<BRmore free lyrics