Tekster: Outkast. A Life in the Day of Benjamin Andr?...

I met you in a club in Atlanta, Georgia
Said, ?Me and my homeboy were coming out with an album?
You looked at me like, yeah, nigga right
But you gave me your number anyway, you were on the talcum

Powder, how's about them oranges
Moved away from home to school with big plans
By day, studied the history of music
By night, just to pay for that shit, you'd dance

To get your pants, was a mission impossible
We were both the same age but I
Suppose wasn't on the same page but in
The same book of life so I'd paged you when

I felt you, that were getting off of work
Or either when you're on your way to school
We starting hanging like Ernie and Bert
And in my idle head, I'm thinking cool

Just when I think I'm going down your shirt
You're hiking up your skirt now
The events that followed, had me volley
If your hometown would be Heaven or Hell

The angelic nastiness you possessed made you by far the best
Therefore hard to tell
You'd dropped me off by the dungeon
Never came in but I knew that you were wondering

Now are these niggaz, in this house up to something
Selling crack, sack by sacks, so they could function?
Well, yes and no
Yes, we were selling it

But no, it wasn't blow
Cook it in the basement, then move it at a show
Then grab the microphone and everybody yelled, ?Ho?
Meanwhile the video starts playing

BET, college radio and a van
Packed full of niggaz, with a blunt in their hand
And one in their ear
You know what I'm saying

But, I kept your number in my old phone
Got a new chip flip with the roam, roam
So it took me a minute to retrieve seven digits
But I promised, I would call you when I got home

But when I got home, I never did
By the time I did, heard that you had a kid
By some nigga in Decatur
Who replied, see you later, when he got the good news, that's life shit

Now, I'm nineteen with a Cadillac
My nigga had a Lex with the gold pack
Got a plaque but I'm living with my pop, pop
So, I got glock and a low jack

You kinda fast for that fella in class, who used to draw
And never said much ?cause half of what he saw
Was so far from that place you wanna be
That words only fucked it up more, follow me

Are you starting to gather, what I'm getting at?
Now if I'm losing, you tell me then I'll double back
But keep in mind, at the time, ?Keep it real? was the phrase
Silly once said, ?Now but those were the days?

When spring break
And Daytona
And Freakniks
Made you wanna

Drop out of college and never go back
Move to the south but that ain't a Kodak
Moment, on went myself and big boi
Well, you knew him as Twan

That's right, you were around before this shit begun
When Twan had a daughter and
Sort of was made to mature before the first tour
We hit the road like Jack

Laughed and cried and drived it back with some Yak
Girls used to say, ?Y'all talk funny, y'all from the islands??
And I'd laughed and they just keep smiling
No, I'm from Atlanta, baby

He from Savannah, maybe
We should hook up and get tore up and then lay down, hey we
Got to go because the bus is pulling out in thirty minutes
She's playing tennis, disturbing the tenants

Fifteen love
Fit like glove
Description is like
Fifteen doves

In a Jacuzzi, catching the Holy Ghost
Making one woozy in the head and comatose, agree?
Enough about me
How's about you?

How's the lil' kid?
She was about two, the last time we spoke
I hadn't smoked or took a shot of drink
Cause I'd start the second album off, on another note

Now, that note threw some niggaz in the hood off
But see I'd balled out and before I fall out
I'd slow my Lac down to a nice speed
The brain is that, fried egg I might need

New direction was apparent
I was a child, looking at the floor, staring
So, changing my style was like release for the primitive beast
Yes, I was on the rise, yeast was the street

To make bread, never primary concern
Just to hop on these beats and wait my turn
I'd meet Muslims, ganstas, bitches, rastas
And macoroni, niggaz, imposters

So on a trip to New York, on some beeswax
I get invited to a club where emcees at
And on stage is a singer with some thing on her head
Similar to the turban that I covered up my dredz with

Which I was rocking at the time
When I was going through them phases, trying to find
Anything that seemed real in the world
Still searching but I started liking this girl
Now you know her

As Erykah on and on Badu
Call Tyrone on the phone, why you?
Do that girl like that boy you ought to be ashamed
The song wasn't about me and that ain't my name

We're young, in love, in short we had fun
No regrets no abortion, had a son
By the name of Seven
And he's five

By the time I do this mix, he'll probably be six
You do the arithmetic
Me do the language arts
Y'all stand against the wall, blindfolded, me throw the darts

To poke you in the heart
And take you from the start
To one luxury transportation and a Marta card
Or either when your girlfriend that went to Mays

Momma or her daddy, let her borrow the Benz because she's smart
Or maybe if your neighbor does you a huge favor
And he sells you that rabbit that's been sitting in his yard
You fix it up, you trick it out, you give it rims, you give it bump

You give it all your time because that's all you can think about
And that's as far as I got