Outkast
"Ova Da Wudz"


Something's gotta give! 

Yeah, you know what I'm sayin? Uhh 
Herring homes, unh, martel homes, carver homes, tekwood 
Martin luther king, bankhead 

Verse One: Big Boi 

Under-cover, over da hills and thru tha woods I go 
Like green lights, a southern nigga that's comin fo' yo' throat 
But not no guillotine see, we be them southern playas 
Remember the football socks, aerobic Reeboks and Decaturs, now 
You up to par and ready fo yo lesson 
I got an ounce of dank and a couple of drinks so let's crank up a session 
Like Tri-City high school, was pullin em in a broke down Rabbit 
I spit a couple of words and layin em down was just a habit 
Just like smokey, choking off da pee-wee that we rolled up 
Talkin about the click will get you laid down hella swoled up 
Hootie hoo slapped ya boyz across the cheek wit Isotoners 
And went to tell yo momma and yo pop that you was a goner 
Tell em Big Boi did it; I swear that nigga be rhymin 
Every lyric that he spit be turnin charcoals into Diamonds and Pearls 
Girl when you givin up them draws, cause 
I got a couple of niggaz down the hall 
That wanna hit it too, I'm not the type to be actin selfish 
Set it out and let it out and I'll be right back just like Elvis 
Cause the postman rings twice... 
Hey Mr. Postman.... 

Chorus: repeat 2X 

power, power, I come gimme some 
tha deadly voice over drums, we from, ATL 
put tha SWATS SWATS on yo' car 
let's travel far, tha southern star shines 

Verse Two: Dre 

Everybody wanna get signed, but (here to tell you) 
record companies act like pimps 
Gettin paid off what we made when we the ones that's fly like blimps 
But ain't no Goodyear, I tell it like it is so I'm like look here 
Just willin to get what I deserve my kids to have a mother 
and a little house, with a dog in the backyard goin "woof-woof" 
Who knows what I'ma say soon's I leave this recording booth 
Poof, back in the real world where birds fly 
From Miami by way of Cuba to whoever wants to get that high 
There's clouds of clowns, seas of G's 
Pro-jects, packed with playas meditating on their knees 
Just to make them ends meet, like ground beef, you won't believe 
The shit that niggaz attempt cause they got other mouths to feed 
besides they own 

Chorus 

Verse Three: Big Boi 

There's some hoes in this house, damn right 
I'm thinkin about the way you skull me, guzz me 
Suckin me dry like deserts Mojave, Gotti, hotties and honeydips 
Likin the way you do me, screw me it make my money flip 
Shakin that ass for daddy puttin this gas off in my Cadi-llac 
Back, don't ever snap, packin the gats and pimpin whores 
Hors d'oevres, swerve, hit the curb because I'm reckless 
Back in the days when I was broke I'd snatch your fuckin necklace