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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Big Boi
Big Boi
Lead Vocals
Preston Crump
Preston Crump
Bass Guitar
Donny Mathis
Donny Mathis
Lead Guitar
Chanz Parkman
Chanz Parkman
Keyboards
Camel
Camel
Sampled Artist
Dré
Dré
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Antwan Patton
Antwan Patton
Songwriter
David Sheats
David Sheats
Songwriter
André "3000" Benjamin
André "3000" Benjamin
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Outkast
Outkast
Executive Producer
David Sheats
David Sheats
Producer
John Frye
John Frye
Recording Engineer
Ralph Cacciurri
Ralph Cacciurri
Recording Engineer
Jason Rome
Jason Rome
Assistant Recording Engineer
Jason Stokes
Jason Stokes
Assistant Recording Engineer
Neal Pogue
Neal Pogue
Mixing Engineer
Claudine Pontier
Claudine Pontier
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Organized Noize
Organized Noize
Executive Producer
L.A. Reid
L.A. Reid
Executive Producer
Babyface
Babyface
Executive Producer

Songtexte

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Baby, did you hear that? Yeah, baby, I heard it, too Look out the window, golly, the sky is electric blue Mama Earth is dying and crying because of you Raining cats and jackals all shackles disintegrate to residue Silly mortals haven't a clue as to what the funk is going on I'm on the telephone dialing the Dungeon ("Hello?") This Dre, bring the MP and the SP Meet me at the center of the Earth and travel carefully Baby, grab the baby, 'cause baby, it ain't much time Mama Earth is tossin' and turnin' and that's a sign Omega nigga I.F.O.'s are landin' in Decatur Hope I'm not over your head, but if so you will catch on later Played the track, guess she could not take it anymo' Rapin' her heavenly body like a ho, coochie so' From niggas constantly fucking her, never loving her Never showing appreciation, busting nuts in her face when they done Who says good folks ain't supposed to die? The sky is fallin', nobody ballin', they done gave back they guns For some tickets to the playoffs, but the Hornets, they won Nigga, we slum, kept all the guns, I gotta protect my family I drove the biggest thing in the house 'cause I knew they'd try to ram me But I'm stabbing, making my way on expressway the best way I know how Up in the sky, east, west, no clouds Him coming now, fuck that money now I ask my honey how she feeling and, "Is Jordan okay?" "Yeah, yeah, she chillin'" We should be at the dungeon shortly, ain't nobody on they porch, see? Approaching the final exit, I'm thinking I see four horsies But I don't though, nigga you won't know until it's on ya I put that on my dope boys from A-Town to California All the weed smell like ammonia But at the Dungeon I know they're smoking Writing the raps and doing the beats to make this last recordin' Fuck abortion, I got in the booth to run the final portion The beat was very dirty and the vocals had distortion (-tion, -tion, -tion, -tion) Who says good folks ain't supposed to die? All's well, nothing's well All's well, nothing's well All's well, nothing's well All's well, nothing's well All's well, nothing's well All's well, nothing's well All's well, nothing's well All's well, nothing's well
Writer(s): Andre Benjamin, David Sheats, Antwan Patton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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