Tomb of the Boom (feat. Konkrete, Big Gipp & Ludacris)

Yo
Just so you all know what time it is
It's your homeboy
Straight from the A-T
I ain't even going say the motherfucking rest
But you know
Dungeon Family, all day long baby
We finna break it off with some fresh new shit (ya, ya, ya)

This rap game lovely
Konkrete play a part 'cause the Feds want to bug me
Athletes want to be rappers, shawty, trust me
Bending corners in the Benz
Riding it like a bucket, nigga fuck it (fire another)
I know some hoes slutty
I optioned a bitch off like a nigga playing rugby
I done seen a ghetto meal, little buddy, trust me
Jump European, came clean through customs, no questions
Perpetrators in the booth, rapping lame like they drug related (what?)
It made me sick to my stomach, lost a two and a baby
You don't grind, you be lying
Should be castrated, Lorena Bobitt maybe

Tomb after tomb
Boom, boom after boom
Serving up emotion once you deep inside the tomb
Embryo to newborn, you can feel me in the womb (woo)
Cool, ooh, that's cool (alright)

You see, I cock back glocks, got more pull than slang shots
Hit G spots by giving hoes back shots
I'm a young country boy, long socks with flip flops
But I pull up on your block in the 500 Benz drop
Konkrete, Aquemini, we taking this here to the top
Bust like balloons, who gives a damn if it goes pop
You say it's hot, well let me turn it up another notch
To my real niggas, won't you pump this out your Speakerboxxx
Fuck the cops, we making noise and we won't stop
Bump, bump, there goes the boom and it's gon' drop
Old school, big shoes, nigga, no socks
We keep tools, see fools, bullets will flock (yeah)

They call me Mr. Ravioli, Mr. Strudel, Mr. Poke 'Em with the Noodle
Mr. Cockerspanielle in your poodle, after school tutor
Roto Rooter, addicted to follies
Like brown collies, stay soft fro grows
Swimming in the fallopian of an Ethiopian
Talking a different language, RBI fly wide
Come to me now, '84 hard, '84 soft wi't me now
Beautiful ladies, they want to walk wit' me now, talk wit me now
Pussy pop for me now, sell cock for me now
Fight a bitch, hit her in the eye for me now
See you when I see you, now I'm out wit' me now, yo

Tomb after tomb
Boom, boom after boom
Serving up emotion once you deep inside the tomb
Embryo to newborn, you can feel me in the womb
Cool, ooh, that's cool

I will never fall off, I haul off heavy weight
Fuck wit' me dog, I chop you up like Norman Bates
I'm true to this shit, I ain't new to this shit
Over a million sold on strictly weed and bricks
Flammable like gasoline when I'm lit up
I prefer my liquor dark and a mean white slut
It's over for you, cappin' ass rapper, get out the game
You can fool the record labels but not the streets man
I just tell it how I see it nigga, fact is fact
The first verse I ever wrote, I got a Platinum plaque
I've been to hell and back so nigga give me my props
Konkrete and Big Boi beating through your Speakerboxxx, yeah

Tomb after tomb
Boom, boom after boom
Serving up emotion once you deep inside the tomb
Embryo to newborn, you can feel me in the womb
Cool, ooh, that's cool (ha)

Ludacris, yeah I keep a glock, in case you like to leak a lot
Meanwhile, cranking the volume knob up on my Speakerboxxx (woo)
"So here he is, get the fuck on the ground"
Is just a phrase you might hear strolling through the A-Town (A-Town)
They don't believe I will stab them in the abdomen
From College Park, Georgia to College Park, Maryland (that's right)
So put your fist up boy, you want to romp
You can Bankhead Bounce or get Eastside Stomped (woo)
Thinking way back before I got mine
Putting bullet holes through neighborhood stop signs
Been a while, it's my adrenaline, yes, ladies and gentleman (ugh)
A hundred thou', bitch, diamonds shimmering
Catch me with a sack of Dro, reaching for the strap below
I'm with some nasty hoes, eating pistachios
Y'all driving Subarus, stuck in your cubicles
I'm stuck in the air with weed crumbs under my cuticles

Tomb after tomb
Boom, boom after boom
Serving up emotion once you deep inside the tomb
Embryo to newborn, you can feel me in the womb
Cool, ooh, that's cool

Fourth and goal
Should I take the three point field goal for the score or should I roll?
Around and take the ball up the middle up the gut, the what, the hole
Cranium overload, over throwed
Now we got seven more points on the board, for sure
B-I-G B-O-I, me oh my, I think he's blessing me
Excelling in harmonious melody, boy we got the recipe
Like Ragu, it's in there, giving you some of the best of me
Player, pimp, ganster, poet
We goin spit it, we going show it to your ass
"You're a champion" were my dad's last words before he passed
But I know one day we will once more cross paths
They say, "Big Boi, can you pull it off without your nigga Dre"
I say, "People, stop the madness 'cause me and Dre be okay"
OutKast, Cell Therapy to cell division
We just split it down the middle so you can see both the visions
Been spitting it damn near ten years, why the fuck would be be quitting
Fuck, nigga