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Andre 3000 - Aint No Thang Lyrics

[Intro: André 3000]
P-p-p-p-p-p-party
Niggas in the point ain't changed
Niggas in the point ain't change, yeah

[Verse 1: André 3000]
A nigga ready from the get-go (Blaow, blaow, blaow)
Y'all hear my shit go, it's André
Can your punk ass come out to play? Say
Stay in your little hole, then coward, duck your head
"You don't know who you be fuckin' with, you's better off dead"
Is what I say, best run the other way
In case of physical breakdown, y'all can break now
My kitchen full of heat, if you can't take the temp'
Make yourself exempt
Pussy-footin' around be gettin' y'all nowhere but stuck
Nowhere to duck, bullets flyin', niggas dyin'
By gettin' blasted, how drastic
They got the nerve to ask me why I do the things I do
I got the nerve to serve you up just like a waiter do
But naw (Naw, naw), I take that back, that's my problem
Turnin' and walkin' away just ain't gon' work when they be robbin'
As long as Big Boi's still livin', never standin' by my lonesome
Step up, nigga, if you want some

[Chorus: OutKast & Big Boi]
Yeah, yeah
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing
We's havin' a smoke-out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing
We's havin' a smoke-out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)
[Verse 2: Big Boi]
Well, nigga, you softer than silicone used to pump up tits (Yeah)
It's that nigga down in the Dungeon with them player-istic hits (Yeah)
I'm quick to stop a sucker flow like menopause at fifty
Original ghetto bastard, so now I makes a switch
I used to sell dope, but in 1994, I'm makin' Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik
But, see, these voices in my skull has got me reminiscin'
About the days back when me mammy had to work in kitchens
She had me makin' better grades to make a better life
But I never had no love or respect 'cause we's gon' be alright
I ran the streets and broke my curfew 'cause I gave a shit
I carried guns and butcher knives 'cause I was steadily in the mix
Yeah, it was so hard to say goodbye, I'm a man now
I'm at the end of my street, so it's time to take my stand now
I call the wild because it's time to take the streets
So if you ain't got the vertebrae or big enough nuts, retreat
I'm ready to wet 'em up like cereal
Just an international player, comin' through your stereo

[Chorus: OutKast & Big Boi]
Yeah, you see
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing (It don't stop)
We's havin' a smoke out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing
We's havin' a smoke out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)
[Verse 3: André 3000]
.357 to your forehead
There'll be more dead 'cause I'm a pro, kid
But Lord forgive me, I gots to keep my milli' right vi-near me
My nine be doin' fine until these niggas wants to clear me
Off my street, but in my hood-hood, they hollerin' ghetto
Don't got no neighbors, they hit the pipe and never let go
But I feel for them like Chaka Khan feel for you
Ain't shit that we can do but rest in peace, pour a brew
On the concrete, remember when we ran deep?
'Member at the party when we served them niggas dandy?
They know not to test us, test me, do me, try me
Trippin' with that drama, my Beretta's right beside me
One is in the air and one is in the chamber
Y'all ask me what the fuck I'm doin', I'm releasin' anger
Quick to dodge danger, I'm takin' it one day
At a time, I got the fattest dimes around my way
You can sway with André, I'll take it to the Ho-Jo, bitch
Just to let you know, yeah

[Chorus: OutKast & Big Boi]
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing
We's havin' a smoke out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing
We's havin' a smoke out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)
[Verse 4: Big Boi]
It's on, my friend, on the road again, I'm travelin'
Do more than sixty-five on 85 off in my Cadillac
I got that nigga Dre, he ridin' shotgun
And got my pump under my seat in case these youngsters wanna have some fun
I'll do it if I have to, bustin' caps with this here heater
Loadin' clip up after clip, I'm packin' my gauge if I feel it
The Glock, the gat, the nine, the heater
See, I be bustin' caps like my amp be bustin' speakers
So how do you figure that Big Boi be scared to blast you?
You 'posed to be the quickest draw, my man, well, hail 'em faster
Uh, one, two, three, you need to think about the future
Before I shoot your ass and dilute your blood with lead
From my hollow tips, I'll send you to an early grave
You fuckin' slave, you better try another way
To take me out is truly somethin' difficult
Don't even run up on me unless you want your brain broke
I'm out of bullets, lettin' loose my last clip
I'ma kick you in your ass and your nigga gettin' pistol whipped
Yeah, that's how I do
You know that's how I do, you know that's how I do

[Chorus: OutKast & Big Boi]
Yeah, you see
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing
We's havin' a smoke out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)
Ain't no thing but a chicken wing
We's havin' a smoke out in the Dungeon with the Mary Jane
It's just the pimps, players, mack daddies, East Point
It's all about that cess in your chest (It's the joint)

[Outro: Big Boi]
Yeah, and it don't stop and it don't quit, to the motherfuckin'
Organized Noize, PA
Goodie Mob, Big Gipp, and all the niggas around the East Point way
College Park is really on the map
We comin' around Atlanta and the niggas are really strapped
With the motherfuckin' guns and the motherfuckin' Glocks
The heaters, the gats, nigga, don't— yeah, it don't stop