["It all started at an accident scene on Bankhead and Ash Street. It's not clear if the suspect caused it; it is clear he wielded a hammer and told ..... to get out of his car."] [Verse 1: Big Boi, Andre] Yeah, yeah check it From alligator belts to patty melts I be that smoothest nigga So hwo do you figga that Atlant don't be pullin dem triggas The Southernplayalistic pimp is up in this bitch Man, my folkers up on that track, complimentin that wickedness See one is for the money two is for my niggaz who jack Niggaz ain't takin that shit no mo' they got big Benz and Cadillac My gat is in my lap, so whatchu wanna be startin now? I'm pissin up on Jeffrey's Dahmer grave that cracker was foul Too close for comfort, too close to home Too close to be playin yo ass so hey why don't you get yo' own As long, as I got this legally People see that we can be on top of things without causin another nigga sorrow, I know it seems it ain't enough to go around But keep on holdin on like Goodie Mob cause it's a better day tomorrow That's all I can say, can't tell the future Tomorrow's another day but today, they just might shoot you For your ride, fuck your pride, hah better be out your seat Quick and snappy with a happy face before you bleed Ask me, if that material shit is worth yo' life I don't know about yours but if so you smokin pipes right [Verse 2: Andre, Big Boi] Deep in the dungeon for these many months Amongst the Dungeon Dragon as we pass around dem blunts Had to cut it out like Cheers, but for years I used to burn em Gettin deep in my thoughts just to get shit off my sternum Chest/chess, I never played but made many a moves I still blame it on session cause I can't remember the due I guess, I feel that gettin a Benz is out of the question The world is yellin Hootie Hoo but in my pockets nuthin but gum and lint, to sum the shit, of I'm broke Nothin but hope, so Big Boi, tell em what you toke I'm travellin up to Jersey with four keys off in my trunk And thinkin of startin the ways to get that motherfucker krunk See yes I be that nigga that with that sess off in my chest Smokin and tokin them token blacks, that wanted to test See strong niggaz survive and the weak niggaz they die I never fuck no white bitch, I stop eatin that pig sty Be activatin that Lo-Jack cause the Fleetwood has been stolen Campalton Road is open, the B-I-G has spoken Cause it's like this [Verse 3: Big Boi, Andre] I got these thoughts, similar to the ones that call in the wild Up in the Benz is where I be doin about a hundred miles The world is FUCKED UP how these niggaz be drivin drunk Vehicular homicide with their bodies off in your trunk To me the cards is not belong I use that strong arm robbery Robbin spree, look at me, W-M-B Backwards, takin you to the cha cha with these verses Comin around the projects make you sleep off in dem hearses I got a word of wisdom, for those who must be zest You'll be needin a physical therapist, cause you can't fuck with this While you sat down by the seashore thinkin about some seashells I was around the corner from Clemson Hills thinkin about the V-12 But maybe not for long because I just done seen the light I'm packin my screwdriver so see I'm gon' be alright Just moving the steering wheel side to side like a slalom Now I ain't got no problem I'm just breakin the steerin column I spot him, in the middle of the MARTA parkin lot I'm hearin a voice in the back of my head yellin "Andre stop!" But do I stop, naw I figure it's a come up But now I'm goin down cause the folks wanna run up DAMN!!! ["These days, the best way to deal with a car jacker is to simply give them what they want."]
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