ATLiens - Instrumental

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 talkin' 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 spend

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

'Cause when we step up in the party, like I'm out you scurry

So go get your fuckin' shine box and your sack of nickles

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

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

It's that same motherfucka that took them knuckles to yo' eye

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

Givin' the shout out to my Uncle Darnell locked up in prison

Now throw yo' 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 "Oh-yeah-yer"

Now throw yo' 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 "Oh-yeah-yer"

Now, my oral illustration be like clitoral stimulation

To the female gender, ain't nothin' 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?

The alienators 'cause we different keep your hands to the sky

Like Sounds of Blackness when I practice what I preach and don't lie

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

Now breaker, breaker ten, fo' can I get some reply? Now everybody say

Now throw yo' 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 "Oh-yeah-yer"

Now throw yo' 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 "Oh-yeah-yer"

Everyday I sit while my nigga be in school

Thinkin' about the second album at the Dungeon shootin' pool

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

Honey I'm home but I'm not married

Carried a lot of problems around being frustrated

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

Like you made the B team and like

The daddy's wife you makin' the 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 not to embark

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

God works in mysterious ways so when he starts

The job of speakin' 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 yo' 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 "Oh-yeah-yer"

Now throw yo' 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 "Oh-yeah-yer"