Ova Da Wudz Lyrics - Atliens - Outkast

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... 

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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 

Photos 

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 

You ol' pussy-ass nigga... yeah