also available on some copies of the Goodie Mob single "Cell Therapy"



{"It all started at an accident scene on Bankhead and Ash Street.

It's not clear if the suspect caused it; it is clear he wielded

a hammer and told ..... to get out of his car."}



Verse One: Big Boi Andre



Yeah yeah check it

From alligator belts to patty melts I be that smoothest nigga

So hwo do you figga that Atlant don't be pullin dem triggas

The Southernplayalistic pimp is up in this bitch

Man, my folkers up on that track, complimentin that wickedness

See one is for the money two is for my niggaz who jack

Niggaz ain't takin that shit no mo' they got big Benz and Cadillac

My gat is in my lap, so whatchu wanna be startin now?

I'm pissin up on Jeffrey's Dahmer grave that cracker was foul



Too close for comfort, too close to home

Too close to be playin yo ass so hey why don't you get yo' own

As long, as I got this legally

People see that we can be on top of things without causin

another nigga sorrow, I know it seems it ain't enough to go around

But keep on holdin on like Goodie Mob cause it's a better day tomorrow

That's all I can say, can't tell the future

Tomorrow's another day but today, they just might shoot you

For your ride, fuck your pride, hah better be out your seat

Quick and snappy with a happy face before you bleed

Ask me, if that material shit is worth yo' life

I don't know about yours but if so you smokin pipes right





Verse Two: Andre, Big Boi



Deep in the dungeon for these many months

Amongst the Dungeon Dragon as we pass around dem blunts

Had to cut it out like Cheers, but for years I used to burn em

Gettin deep in my thoughts just to get shit off my sternum





Chest/chess, I never played but made many a moves

I still blame it on session cause I can't remember the due

I guess, I feel that gettin a Benz is out of the question

The world is yellin Hootie Hoo but in my pockets nuthin but

gum and lint, to sum the shit, of I'm broke

Nothin but hope, so Big Boi, tell em what you toke



I'm travellin up to Jersey with four keys off in my trunk

And thinkin of startin the ways to get that motherfucker krunk

See yes I be that nigga that with that sess off in my chest

Smokin and tokin them token blacks, that wanted to test

See strong niggaz survive and the weak niggaz they die

I never fuck no white bitch, I stop eatin that pig sty

Be activatin that Lo-Jack cause the Fleetwood has been stolen

Campalton Road is open, the B-I-G has spoken

Cause it's like this



Verse Three: Big Boi, Andre



I got these thoughts, similar to the ones that call in the wild

Up in the Benz is where I be doin about a hundred miles

The world is FUCKED UP how these niggaz be drivin drunk

Vehicular homicide with their bodies off in your trunk

To me the cards is not belong I use that strong arm robbery

Robbin spree, look at me, W-M-B

Backwards, takin you to the cha cha with these verses

Comin around the projects make you sleep off in dem hearses

I got a word of wisdom, for those who must be zest

You'll be needin a physical therapist, cause you can't fuck with this



While you sat down by the seashore thinkin about some seashells

I was around the corner from Clemson Hills thinkin about the V-12

But maybe not for long because I just done seen the light

I'm packin my screwdriver so see I'm gon' be alright

Just moving the steering wheel side to side like a slalom

Now I ain't got no problem I'm just breakin the steerin column

I spot him, in the middle of the MARTA parkin lot

I'm hearin a voice in the back of my head yellin "Andre stop!"

But do I stop, naw I figure it's a come up

But now I'm goin down cause the folks wanna run up

DAMN!!!



{"These days, the best way to deal with a car jacker

is to simply give them what they want