Escucha música Sole Sunday A Cappella de Outkast 2025 en línea | Musica Pop Rock

Outkast - Sole Sunday A Cappella Lyrics

[Verse 1: Big Gipp]
Yeah, yeah, yo
Gipp keep it slow poke
Hang out the side with no rope
Sit in the tub, flick the remote and soak
Pull up, jump out, and then I strut for her
And if anybody got problems, I'ma cut for her
In this atmosphere now you can disappear, smoke thick shells
Bail like tailbacks looking for holes
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 zone, get your own
Better move on before your folk get split, you won't forget
Thе DF put it down, now get down or sit down

[Hook: André 3000]
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon mе, if I shake your soul
I got it, I got it shorty, it's our ball

[Verse 2: Khujo]
I tackle my problems, never run from my foes
Stiff-arm facemask, hit the juke button, then leave a sucka froze
Like he just tried to stuff a whole ki up in his nose
On all fo's
You hit 'em high, I hit 'em low, for this dough
Your heart gon' bust out here, 'cause we comin' full speed
We dig, intend you lift you up off of your feet
At the lift, of the glass, sippin' victory
Clean cut but I stay dirty
Uhh, you play fair, I cheat
I spike this pig in yo' face like you never stopped eatin' pork
Or beast, and diseases end careers
Tenacious on his grill, uh, All-Pro Hall of Famer
With no fears, blood sweat and tears
[Hook: André 3000]
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul

[Verse 3: André 3000]
The rich boy got it bad 'cause he is rich
The poor boy got it bad 'cause he is poor
The bad boy got it bad 'cause he want growth
The good girl got it good 'cause she got game
And runs it on undeveloped fellas considered lame
Same like mechanics do it, baby who need her Buick
Repaired, don't have no knowledge of what a brake shoe is
Make woo it, turn to nickle, 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
Cold as summer, I got yo' number, you got my number
Let's add 'em, see what we come with maybe we can slumber
Like uh, beggars and bums and uh, retarded ones, uh
Dolphins and whales, uh, 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

[Hook: André 3000]
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul
[Verse 4: Big Boi]
Ain't no Sunday School this mornin
They say somebody blowed up the church
What's even worse than that
I heard Pastor Jenkins he got hurt by the
Perpetrators, demonstrators of violence and hatred
It's fin' to be 2001, the rojo-necks are racist
Fascists acting savage on the Sabbath must be demons
Errand boys for Satan defeated when I repeat it
Rebuke thee, rebuke thee, the look in they eye was spooky
But now I find myself in the park sittin' in my hooptie
Like a movie, I was daydreamin' and everything seemed real
But now I'm at Mozley Park and we got some chicken on the grill
Get a beer, nigga chill, roll a joint, pop a pill
Cop a feel, or some cut, as we do it like this here on

[Bridge]
On any given Sunday, all, Atlanta will be born
A tradition will be broken
Victory is yours, on any given Sunday

[Hook: André 3000]
Sunday mornin', makes me feel
So godly, pardon me, if I shake your soul