ATLiens

Yeah, uh, East Point smokes some dank

College Park in the house, Decatur

Uh, Old National got the skanks

Everybody, uh, nahmsayin'?

Check it

Well it's the M-I-crooked letter, ain't no one better

And when I'm on the microphone you best to wear your sweater

'Cause I'm cooler than a polar bear's toenails

"Oh hell, there he go again talking that shit"

Bend corners like I was a curve, I struck a nerve

And now you 'bout to see this Southern playa serve

I heard it's not where you're from but where you pay rent

Then I heard it's not what you make but how much you spent

You got me bent like elbows, amongst other things, but I'm not worried

'Cause when we step up in the party; like a mouse, you scurry

So go get your fucking shine box and your sack of nickels

It tickles to see you try to be like Mr. Pickles

Daddy Fat Sax, B-I-G B-O-I

It's that same motherfucker that took them knuckles to your eye

And I try, to warn you not to test, but you don't listen

Giving the shout-out to my Uncle Darnell locked up in prison

Now throw your hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, "O-Yea-yer"

Now throw your hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, "O-Yea-yer"

Now, my oral illustration be like clitoral stimulation

To the female gender, ain't nothing better

Let me know when it's wet enough to enter

If not, I'll wait, because the future of the world depends on

If or if not the child we raise gon' have that nigga syndrome

Or will it know to beat the odds regardless of the skin tone?

Or will it feel that if we tune it, it just might get picked on?

Or will it give a fuck about what others say and get gone?

They alienate-us 'cause we different, keep your hands to the sky

Like Sounds of Blackness when I practice what I preach, ain't no lie

I'll be the baker and the maker of the piece of my pie

Now breaker, breaker 10-4, can I get some reply?

Now everybody say

Now throw your hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, "O-Yea-yer"

Now throw your hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, "O-Yea-yer"

Every day, I sit while my nigga be in school

Thinking about the second album at the Dungeon shooting pool

Like E-S to the P-N, 'cause we adjust to the beat in the zone (zone)

Honey, I'm home but I'm not married

Carried a lot of problems around being frustrated

And now I'm sitting at the end of the month, I just made it

Like you made the B team, and like your daddy's wife you making that coffee

You heard the ATLiens, so back the hell up off me

Softly as if I played piano in the dark

Found a way to channel my anger now to embark

The world's a stage and everybody gots to play their part

God works in mysterious ways, so when he starts

The job of speaking through us, we be so sincere with this here

No drugs or alcohol, so I can get the signal clear as day

Put my Glock away, I got a stronger weapon

That never runs out of ammunition, so I'm ready for war, okay

Now throw your hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, "O-Yea-yer"

Now throw your hands in the air

And wave 'em like you just don't care

And if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit

Everybody let me hear you say, "O-Yea-yer"