Alright alright alright alright [Repeat: x7]

Don't everybody like the smell of gasoline?
Well burn motherfucker burn American Dream
Don't everybody like the taste of Apple Pie?
We'll snap for your slice of life I'm tellin' ya why
I hear that mother nature's now on birth control
The coldest pimp be looking for somebody to hold
The highway up to Heaven got a crook on the toll
Youth full of fire ain't got nowhere to go nowhere 2 go

All of my heroes did dope
Every nigga round me playin' married
Or paying child support
I can't cope
Never made no sense to me one day I hope it will
And that's that, sport, sport
Pray I live to see the day when Seven's happily married
With kids, woe woe
The world is moving fast and I'm losin' my balance
No time to dig, low low
To a place where ain't nowhere to go but up
Ya wit me say shit, sho sho
Now let me ask y'all this

[Chorus]
Don't everybody like the smell of gasoline?
Well burn motherfucker burn American Dream
Don't everybody like the taste of Apple Pie?
We'll snap for your slice of life I'm tellin' ya why
I hear that mother nature's now on birth control
The coldest pimp be looking for somebody to hold
The highway up to Heaven got a crook on the toll
Youth full of fire ain't got nowhere to go nowhere 2 go

It's shitty like Ricky Stratton got a million bucks
My cousin Ricky Walker got ten years doing Fed time
On a first offense drug bust, fuck the Holice
That's if ya racist or ya crooked
Arrest me 4 this dope I didn't weight it up or cook it
You gotta charge the world cause over a million people took it
Look at me, you outta your jurisdiction now ya lookin' stupid
Officer, get off me sir
Don't make me call L.A. he'll have ya walking sir
A couple of months ago they gave OutKast the key to the city
But I still gotta pay my taxes and they give us no pity
About the youngsters amongst us
You think they respect the law
They think they monsters, they love us, reality rappin'
And giving the youth the truth from this booth
And when we on stage we scream
Don't everybody everybody

[Chorus]

Officer of the most high
You touch me you touch the apple of this eye
If they kick us out where will we go
Not to Africa cause not one of them acknowledge us as they kin folk
Still eatin' pork
Abomination desecration for beating flesh
Penalty for violation is death
Woe, woe, to the man that strive with his maker on judgment day
Hip Hip Hooray!
Mr. Reaper Babylon the great
The mother of heartless is falling, prophecy must be fulfilled
The liquor fire is calling

[Chorus]

Writer : SHEATS, DAVID A/UNKNOWN CO-WRITER
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, CHRYSALIS MUSIC