Lyrical Breakdown of B.O.B. - Bombs Over Baghdad - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "B.O.B. - Bombs Over Baghdad" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how OutKast weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "B.O.B. - Bombs Over Baghdad" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that OutKast employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to OutKast's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "B.O.B. - Bombs Over Baghdad" not only celebrates OutKast's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

One, two, one, two, three

Yeah, inslumnational underground

Thunder pounds, when I stomp the ground (woo)

Like a million elephants or silverback orangutans

You can't stop a train

Who wants some? Don't come unprepared

I'll be there, but when I leave there

Better be a household name

Weatherman tellin' us it ain't gon' rain

So now we sittin' in a droptop, soakin' wet

In a silk suit tryin' not to sweat

Hittin' somersaults without the net

But this'll be the year that we won't forget, the 1-9-9-9

Anno Domini, anything goes

Be what you want to be, long as you know

Consequences are given for living the fence is

Too high to jump in jail, too low to dig

I might just touch hell, hot

Get a life, now they on sale

Then I might cast you a spell

Look at what came in the mail

A scale and some Arm & Hammer

Soul gold grill, and a baby mamma

Black Cadillac and a pack of pampers

Stack of questions with no answers

Cure for cancer, cure for AIDS

Make a nigga want to stay on tour for days

Get back home, thangs are wrong

Well, not really, it was bad all along

Before your left, adds up to a ball of power

Thoughts at a thousand miles per hour

Hello, ghetto, let yo' brain breathe

Believe there's always mo', ow

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) yeah, ha, ha, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) yeah, ah

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) ha, ha, ha, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)

Uno, dos, tres, it's on

Did you ever think a pimp rock a microphone?

Like that there, boy and we still stay street

Big things happen every time we meet

Like a track team, crack fiend, dyin' to geek

Outkast bumpin' up and down the street

Slant back Cadillac, 'bout five niggas deep

75 MC's freestylin' to the beat

'Cause we get crunk, stay drunk at the club

Should've bought an ounce, but you copped a dub

Should've held back, but you throwed a punch

'Posed to meet your girl, but you packed a lunch

No D to the U to the G for you

Got a son on the way, by the name of Bamboo

Got a little baby girl, four year Jordan

Never turned my back on my kids for them

Should've hit it, quit it, rag top

Before you re-up, get a laptop

Make a b'ness for yourself, boy set some goals

Make a fat diamond out of dusty coals

Record number four, but we on the road

Hold up, slow up, stop, control

Like Janet, planet Stankonia's on ya

Movin' like Floyd, comin' straight to Florida

Lock all your windows, then block the corridors

Pullin' off my belt, 'cause a whipping's in order

Like a three piece fish, 'fore I cut your daughter

Yo quiero Taco Bell, then I hit the border

Pitty-pat rappers tryin' to get the five

I'm a microphone fiend tryin' to stay alive

When you come A-T-L, boy, you better not hide

'Cause the Dungeon Family gon' ride, ha-ha

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) ah, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) ah, yeah

Don't pull the thang out unless you plan to bang

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah) y'all over, yeah

Don't even bang unless you plan to hit something

(Bombs over Baghdad, yeah)

Bombs over Baghdad, yeah

Bob your head, rag top

Power music, electric revival