Sole Sunday (feat. Goodie Mob) - Radio Mix

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