Stankonia Above the Studio

Lyrics

[Intro]

Rico's basement, Lakewood Heights, 1993.
Damp air clings, single bulb sways.
You, old Dungeon, cradle of beats.

[Verse 1]
André Lauren Benjamin, May 27, 1975,
meets Antwan André Patton at Tri-Cities High,
East Point sidewalks cracked under February sun.
They freestyle after school, words bouncing off brick ranch houses.
Grocery bags on heads, paper crowns for outsiders.
Rico Wade, February 26, 1972, opens the door downstairs.
Musty scent, cigarette smoke, fried chicken from upstairs kitchen.

[Chorus]
Oh, Dungeon, you hold the South's secret sound.
Organized Noize on the Roland TR-808,
thumping bass through frayed cables.
Aquemini flows, Stankonia rises above.
The South got something to say, you whisper it first.

[Verse 2]
Late nights past midnight, 65 degrees cool and sticky floor.
Big Boi's gritty lines, André's eclectic funk.
Mismatched socks on purpose, funky nod to the streets.
Rico's mom unnamed in the stories, but her biscuits fuel the fire.
East Point corner stores, 1970s Cadillac parked outside,
chrome catching streetlight gleam.

[Bridge]

You, trembling earth of sound, reorient hip-hop south.
From basement to empire, voices unnamed in the background,
female echoes lost in the mix.
But you remember, Dungeon, every rhyme etched in concrete.

[Verse 3]
1995 Source Awards, André declares it.
We just trying to make music that’s gonna last forever.
Wanted a sound authentically Atlanta.
Paper bags, 808 kicks, marijuana smoke lingering.
Savannah-born Big Boi, Atlanta-raised André,
weave the Dungeon Family tree.

[Outro]

Oh, Dungeon, your walls still hum.
Stankonia above the studio, forever.