Skip to content
Lyric
Dive
Public playlists
My playlists
Search
Sign in
Sole Sunday
OutKast
Popularity ยท Moderate
+
๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
0
0
Listen
YouTube
1
2
3
0:00 / 0:00
Loading YouTube player...
Lyrics offset
Synced
Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
Yeah, yeah, yo
Gipp keep it slow poke, hang off the side with no rope
Sit in the tub, flick the remote and soak
Pull up, jump out, then I strut for 'em
And if anybody got problems, I'ma cut for 'em
In this atmosphere, nigga can disappear
Smoke thick shells, bail like tailbacks, looking for shit
Drag my ass down the Ave like a cab
Scar that ass, leave your shirt open like an Arab
Making money off these breakdown slabs
We got this song, get your own
Better move on before your focus split, you won't forget
The DL put it down, now get down or sit down
Sunday morning makes me feel so godly
Pardon me if I shake your soul
I got it, I got it, shawty
It's our ball, uh
I tackle my problems, never run from my foes
Dip on, face mask, hit the juke button then leave a sucker froze
Like he just tried to stuff a whole ki up in his nose
On all fours, you hit 'em high, I hit 'em low
For this dough, your heart gon' bust
Out here 'cause we coming full speed
We be intent to lift you up off of your feet
At the lip of the glass, sipping Victory, clean cut but I stay dirty
Uh, you play fair, I cheat
I smack this pig in your face like you never stop eating pork or beef
Ending seasons and careers, defaced us on his gridiron
All-pro, hall-of-famer with no fears
Blood, sweat, and tears, oh
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Sunday morning makes me feel so godly
Pardon me if I shake your soul
ย
The rich boy got the bag 'cause he is rich
The poor boy got a bag 'cause he is poor
The Bad Boy got it bad 'cause he want both
The good girl got it good 'cause she got game
And runs in on undeveloped fellas considered lame
Same like mechanics do it, baby who need her Buick
Repair don't have no knowledge of what a brake shoe is
Make who would turn to nickel, squirm and tickle, we wiggle
Now your emotions like a dill pickle in autumn
Fall into the bottom of black
Holes, make a left on nothingness 'cause that's where I'm at
Coldest summer, I got your number, you got my number
Let's add 'em, see what we come with, maybe we can stumble
Like, uh, babies in arms and retarded ones
Or dolphins and whales are the smartest ones
So nothing you can do can be new up under the sun
Depending what sun you live under, you can be the one on
Sunday morning makes me feel so godly
Pardon me if I shake your soul
ย
Yeah
Ain't no Sunday school this morning
They say somebody blowed up the church
What's even worse than that, I heard Pastor J.D. got hurt
By the perk, portrayed as demonstrators of violence and hatred
It's finna be 2001, the rojo necks are racist
Facts, acting savage on the Sabbath must be demon
Errand boys for Satan, defeated when I repeat it
Refute thee, refute thee, the look in they eye was spooky
But now I find myself in the park sitting in my hoopty
Like a movie, I was daydreaming and everything seemed real
But now I'm at Mosby Park and we got some chicken on the grill
Get a beer, nigga chill, roll a junt, pop a pill
Come feel when we cut as we do it like this, still on
Any given Sunday
Oh, a legend will be born
Oh, tradition will be broken
Oh, victory is yours
On any given Sunday
Sunday morning makes me feel so godly
Pardon me if I shake your soul
ย