Lyrics

[Verse: Andre 3000] So I'm watchin' her fine ass, walk to my bedroom And thought to myself "that's the shape of things to come" She said, "Why in the club, you don't make it precipitate? You know, make it rain when you can make it thunderstorm?" I'm like, "Why?" The world needs sun, the hood needs funds There's a war goin' on and half the battle is guns How dare I throw it on the floor when people are poor So I write like Edgar Allen to restore, got a cord Umbilical attached to a place I can't afford No landscaping, or window draping This old lady told me, if I ain't got nothin' good, say nathan That's why I don't talk much I swear it don't cost much to pay attention to me I tell like it is, thеn I tell it how it could be The hood bе Requesting my services — oh, don't get nervous It's step your game up time, these ain't them same old rhymes Designed to have you dancin' in some club Niggas ride to me, women be off in they tub Exfoliating with they poms-poms, yelling, "Go, 3000!" I'm in my whatever bumpin' N.W.A, 100 Miles and Runnin' Runnin' Runnin' Runnin' Summon, woman, come in Sit down, heard you need some plumbin' Done in, I'm in a swell mood Or rather swole mood Until she told me that she told dude That she'll be back, she's going to the store I didn't know she had a boyfriend, so the door I pointed her to I said, "Call me when y'all break up" "I don't fuck nobody, bitch, and never owned a Jacob" — know what time it is Nigga just tryna live like a nigga supposed to live If I still drank that malt liquor, I'd pour the beer On the ground for niggas not around; I started off starvin', now they got me out here Brett Favre'n Tryna see if I still got it, got it I guess it's like a bike, think about it ('Bout it, 'bout it, 'bout it, 'bout it)