Goodie Mob, OutKast - Sole Sunday lyrics
[Goodie Mob, OutKast - Sole Sunday lyrics]
Yeah, yeah, yo gipp keep it slow poke
Hang out the side with no rope
Sit in the tub, flick the remote and soak
Pull up, jump out, and then I strut for her
And if anybody got problems, I'ma cut for her
In this atmosphere now you can disappear
Smoke thick shells
Bail like tailbacks looking for holes
Drag my ass down the ave like a cab
Scar that ass
Leave your shirt open like an Arab
Making money off these breakdown slabs
We got this zone, get your own
Better move on before your folk get split
You won't forget
The DF put it down, now get down or sit down
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
I got it, I got it shorty, it's our ball
I tackle my problems, never run from my foes
Stiff-arm facemask, hit the juke button
Then leave a sucka froze
Like he just tried to stuff a
Whole ki up in his nose on all fo's
You hit 'em high, I hit 'em low
For this dough
Your heart gon' bust out here
'cause we comin' full speed we dig
Intend you lift you up off of your feet
At the lift, of the glass, sippin' victory
Clean cut but I stay dirty
Uhh, you play fair, I cheat
I spike this pig in yo' face
Like you never stopped eatin' pork
Or beast, and diseases end careers
Tenacious on his grill, uh
All-Pro Hall of Famer
With no fears, blood sweat and tears
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
The rich boy got it bad 'cause he is rich
The poor boy got it bad 'cause he is poor
The bad boy got it bad 'cause he want growth
The good girl got it good 'cause she got game
And runs it on undeveloped
Fellas considered lame
Same like mechanics do it
Baby who need her Buick
Repaired, don't have no knowledge of
What a brake shoe is
Make woo it, turn to nickle
Squirm and tickle we wiggle
Now your emotions like a dill pickle
In autumn, fall
Into the bottom of black holes
Make a left on nothingness 'cause
That's where I'm at
Cold as summer, I got yo' number
You got my number let's add 'em
See what we come with maybe we can slumber
Like uh, beggars and bums
And uh, retarded ones, uh
Dolphins and whales, uh, the smartest ones
So nothing you can do can be
New up under the sun
Depending what sun you live under
You can be the one on
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
Ain't no Sunday School this mornin
They say somebody blowed up the church
What's even worse than that
I heard Pastor Jenkins he got hurt by the
Perpetrators, demonstrators of violence
And hatred it's fin' to be 2001
The rojo-necks are racist
Fascists acting savage on the
Sabbath must be demons
Errand boys for Satan defeated
When I repeat it rebuke thee, rebuke thee
The look in they eye was spooky
But now I find myself in the
Park sittin' in my hooptie like a movie
I was daydreamin' and everything seemed real
But now I'm at Mozley Park and we
Got some chicken on the grill
Get a beer, nigga chill, roll a joint
Pop a pill cop a feel, or some cut
As we do it like this here on
On any given Sunday, all
Atlanta will be born
A tradition will be broken
Victory is yours, on any given Sunday
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
Hang out the side with no rope
Sit in the tub, flick the remote and soak
Pull up, jump out, and then I strut for her
And if anybody got problems, I'ma cut for her
In this atmosphere now you can disappear
Smoke thick shells
Bail like tailbacks looking for holes
Drag my ass down the ave like a cab
Scar that ass
Leave your shirt open like an Arab
Making money off these breakdown slabs
We got this zone, get your own
Better move on before your folk get split
You won't forget
The DF put it down, now get down or sit down
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
I got it, I got it shorty, it's our ball
I tackle my problems, never run from my foes
Stiff-arm facemask, hit the juke button
Then leave a sucka froze
Like he just tried to stuff a
Whole ki up in his nose on all fo's
You hit 'em high, I hit 'em low
For this dough
Your heart gon' bust out here
'cause we comin' full speed we dig
Intend you lift you up off of your feet
At the lift, of the glass, sippin' victory
Clean cut but I stay dirty
Uhh, you play fair, I cheat
I spike this pig in yo' face
Like you never stopped eatin' pork
Or beast, and diseases end careers
Tenacious on his grill, uh
All-Pro Hall of Famer
With no fears, blood sweat and tears
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
The rich boy got it bad 'cause he is rich
The poor boy got it bad 'cause he is poor
The bad boy got it bad 'cause he want growth
The good girl got it good 'cause she got game
And runs it on undeveloped
Fellas considered lame
Same like mechanics do it
Baby who need her Buick
Repaired, don't have no knowledge of
What a brake shoe is
Make woo it, turn to nickle
Squirm and tickle we wiggle
Now your emotions like a dill pickle
In autumn, fall
Into the bottom of black holes
Make a left on nothingness 'cause
That's where I'm at
Cold as summer, I got yo' number
You got my number let's add 'em
See what we come with maybe we can slumber
Like uh, beggars and bums
And uh, retarded ones, uh
Dolphins and whales, uh, the smartest ones
So nothing you can do can be
New up under the sun
Depending what sun you live under
You can be the one on
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
Ain't no Sunday School this mornin
They say somebody blowed up the church
What's even worse than that
I heard Pastor Jenkins he got hurt by the
Perpetrators, demonstrators of violence
And hatred it's fin' to be 2001
The rojo-necks are racist
Fascists acting savage on the
Sabbath must be demons
Errand boys for Satan defeated
When I repeat it rebuke thee, rebuke thee
The look in they eye was spooky
But now I find myself in the
Park sittin' in my hooptie like a movie
I was daydreamin' and everything seemed real
But now I'm at Mozley Park and we
Got some chicken on the grill
Get a beer, nigga chill, roll a joint
Pop a pill cop a feel, or some cut
As we do it like this here on
On any given Sunday, all
Atlanta will be born
A tradition will be broken
Victory is yours, on any given Sunday
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul