Talking: The feeling of being 12 years old and waking up in the middle

of the night and somebody in yo room. Yo heart starts beating so fast

you can hear it pumping. The veins in yo temple pulsate as you stare at

the intruder. Then after a few minutes you realize he ain't moving. So

finally you let 'em hang and turn on the light and the killer turns into

yo coat throwed over the chair.



The feeling of sitting at the red light early in the morning and two or

three motherfuckers cross the street. Yo senses heighten, reflexes

sharpen vision's enhanced adrenaline flows as they rush across the

street you leave the print from the heater grip in yo palm then yo heart

rate and breathing drag back to normal as you realize these niggas just

goin' to the store.



Many of us mistake Phobia for true fear. Whereas fear is a gift from

God to be used for self-preservation. Phobia are obstacles strategically

placed in society by opposers of positive existence. Through

stereotyping, innuendo, false documentation, and glorification they'll

turn your fear switch to a permanent on. We can change this by changing

the small truth within' the lie. Death is a small price to pay for

respect. Death is a small price to pay for respect. You know who it is.

You know what it is. Peace out.



Verse 1: Andre



In these troublin' times

a nigga like me be thinkin' of rhymes

that makes my quarters nickels

plus my pennies and my dimes stack

Don't be lookin' for trouble it be finding me

Try turning the other cheek

I understand but never mind that

Yes Sir guess the light is getting dim

at the end of the tunnel tried to hit me for my rims

I never thought thirty spokes

could attract too much attention

I gotta protect my own therefore

I'm heated just like a kitchen

full of pots and pan Glocks in hand

Shots rung out like ringin' the bells

and then that sucker nigga ran

Damn, I never thought that it

would come to this conclusion

the folks that throwed us

on them boats should be the one's I'm losin'

but naw we don't see it that way

in '94 this is the real no time for play play

betta believe the playas on the loot

need to get they head screwed on tight

when it really get down to the nitty grit

who gone fight pipe down

'cause ain't no better time

to crank it up than right now

we gots to see rump crum down here

and I don't hear nobody disagreein'

Orga-no-i-z-e-Mr. D.J. and me and Big Boi



Chorus



So don't spend yo whole life

livin' it for the white

You got a 9 to 5 and now

you choose to live it right

You takin' yo ass to the Army

'cause you scared of Revolution

I'm writing everyday to stop that brain pollution

I got a baby on the way that stress is in my chest

I'm 18 years of age and black so I can picture less

I'm smokin' and drinkin' e'ryday

So play your fuckin' job

educated and black I will resort to rob



Verse 2: Big Boi



See why in the muthafuck

do niggas be acting up

Do they want me to grab my shit

and lettin' that pistol go ruck

See I be gettin' stuck and stuff

havin' to knock a nigga out about my clout

That's not what it's about

see yes indeed I got that weed

like Daddy Q be havin' them ounces

That nigga the B-I-G be chokin' 'em out

and then I bounces

I got that lyrical flow to make

a hoe pull up her skirt

I drunk that herk & jerk boi

thinkin' of future things to work on

I got my fuck on and

then I took my clothes off

Washed my nuts up in the sink

and then I got more nuts off

Cough it's time to be out

see bein' a pimp is bein' a pimp

I'm dirtier than the shit

on the back of a shrimp

Now ain't that foul

the way a nigga can spit that style

My nigga I spit it I did it

Now suckas need to quit it

'Cause it's real



Chorus



Verse 3: Big Boi



Well it's that nigga that be

wearing Nautica V-necks

and Polo sweats

I got some food up in yo thoughts

and that cess off in yo chest

See livin' up in the dungeon

where we stayed in '93

see that nigga the B-I-G B-O-I

that be me

and when we rock it

Niggas be jocking just like ?

you snitch I fucked yo bitch

See and my niggas G'd that hoe

on the South side of Camelton Road

No slippin' in this pimpin'

she was just a horny toad

See I'm a mystery like the

killing of Michael Jordan's father

Was steadily packin' the hoes

when I worked at Foot Locker

I'm gettin' higher than learning

smokin' 'em up and then burning

East Point is on the map

and now my clothes is hurtin'



Andre:



Now shit done got boring ass

molin' when excess closed down

but niggaz kept sewin' shearin'

stirrin' bein' the pharm assistant that missed

of the folks but some people

tend to joke about this

but it's really dead spirits

You can bet my lyrics

now ya wonder why that we

done stopped and got serious

Wantin' to know where I'm from

and where I need to be

Now that I know comfortable

living give me meat

Can I get back ya wonder why we split back

lure us into pitch black dark

but I sit back and spark

another one to leave ya discombobulated

in that dust livin' in a world

where in nobody do you trust

Then hush never became a major trade

but us in major trouble

'cause we made a too many mistakes

off in the past

Thinkin' you could make it this world

and now we laugh 'cause it's all faults (Chorus starts here)

either way ya go ya gotta pay the cost of the mic wind



Chorus repeat (last line is changed to:

I'm hangin' with the G-O-O-D-I-E Mob Nigga yeah



Takin' you a li'l higher knowwhatI'msayin' when you learnin' when you

burnin' up that smoke so you can choke on my quotes

and get my * down yo throat you just don't understand

youknowwhatI'msayin' Organized Noize for '95 Bitch