la version propagande US....



Dre]
Yeah!
Inter national underground
Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground
(Woo!) Like a million elephants that sit with back
Orangutan 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 soaken' wet
In a silk suit tryin' not to sweat
Hits I'm a (?) switched out the net
But this'll be the year that we won't forget
One-Nine-Nine-Nine, (?) anything goes, be what 'chu 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 máma
Black Cadillac and a pack of pampers, stack of question with no answers
Cure for cancer, cure for AIDS
Make a nigga wanna stay onto it 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 breath,
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 boy and will still stay street
Big things happen every time we meet
Like a track team, (?), dying of (?)
Outkast bumpin' up and down the street
Slam back, Cadillac, 'bout five nigga deep,
Seventy-five emcee's freestylin' to tha beat
'Cause we get crossed and 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 dime out of dusty coal
Record number four, but we on a roll
Hold up, slow up, stop, control
Like Janet, planets, take only 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 commin' to A-T-L, but you bet' not hide
'Cause it doesn't (?)
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 and Big Boi]: 16X
Bob your head. Rag top.

{Choir}: 23X