Lyrics

[Intro: Big Boi & André 3000] Something's gotta give! Yeah, you know what I'm sayin? Uhh Herndon Homes, unh, Martel Homes, Carver Homes, Techwood Martin Luther King, Bankhead [Verse 1: Big Boi] Undercover, over the hills and through the woods I go Like green lights, a Southern nigga that's comin' for your 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 for your lesson I got an ounce of dank and a couple of drinks, so let's crank up a session Like Tri-Cities High School, was pulling 'em in a broke down Rabbit I spit a couple of words, and laying 'em down was just a habit Just like Smokey, choking off da pee-wee that we rolled up Talking about the clique will get you nathaniel but swolled up "Hootie Hoo," slapped you boys across the cheek with 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 rhyming Every lyric that he spit be turning charcoals into Diamonds and Pearls" Girl, when you giving up them drawers? 'Cause I got a couple of niggas down the hall That want to hit it too, I'm not the type to be acting selfish Set it out and let it out, and I'll be right back, just like Elvis 'Cause the postman rings twice... (Yeah) Hey Mr. Postman... (It's like that) Yeah [Chorus: Witchdoctor] Power, power, I come, gimme some The deadly voice over drums, we from, ATL Put tha SWATS SWATS on yo' car Let's travel far, tha Southern star shines Power, power, I come, gimme some The deadly voice over drums, we from, ATL Put tha SWATS SWATS on yo' car Let's travel far, tha Southern star shines [Verse 2: André 3000] Everybody wanna get signed, but (I'm here to tell you) Record companies act like pimps Getting 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 willing to get what I deserve, my kids do have a mother And a little house, with a dog in the backyard going "woof-woof" Who knows what I must face when 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 niggas attempt 'cause they got other mouths to feed Besides they own [Chorus: Witchdoctor] Power, power, I come, gimme some The deadly voice over drums, we from, ATL Put tha SWATS SWATS on yo' car Let's travel far, tha Southern star shines Power, power, I come, gimme some The deadly voice over drums, we from, ATL Put tha SWATS SWATS on yo' car Let's travel far, tha Southern star shines [Verse 3: Big Boi] Yeah, uh "It's some hoes in this house," damn right I'm thinking about the way you skull me Girls be–sucking me dry like deserts, Mojave, Gobi, Hotties and honeydips Liking the way you do me, screw me and make my money flip Shaking that ass for daddy, putting this gas off in my Cadi-llac Back, don't ever snap, packing the gats and pimping whores Hors d'oeuvres, swerve, hit the curb, because I'm reckless (Uh) Back in the days when I was broke, I'd snatch your fucking necklace You ol' pussy-ass nigga... (Yeah) yeah