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U.R.A.Q.TM.I.A.

Released: March 22, 2005

Songwriter: M.I.A. Quincy Jones

Producer: Diplo Switch Paul Byrne KW Griff

[Refrain]
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
You fuck my man and wreck my home
I'll get my bro to rob your phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
You fuck my man and wreck my home
I'll get my bro to rob your phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
You fuck my man and wreck my home
I'll get my bro to rob your phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
You fuck my man and wreck my home
I'll get my bro to rob your phone
You big dummy!

[Verse 1]
Now could it be that me and he
Are tighter than J-Lo in her jeans
And could it be that me and he
Are tighter than R. Kelly in his teens
You fucking with my man
And you text him all the time
You might've had him once
But I got him all the time

[Refrain]
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
You fuck my man and wreck my home
I'll get my bro to rob your phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
Dt-dt-dt on your mobile phone
You fuck my man and wreck my home
I'll get my bro to rob your phone

[Chorus]
U-R-A-Q-T
Is your dad a dealer? 'Cause you're dope to me
You throw them balls across the country
You win gold medals for when you're with me
You big dummy
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on

[Verse 2]
He ain't no word for Scrabble
You don't get points for doubles
Ménage à trois, la-la-la-la-la
I'll bill you for your droudles
You done lost your marble
Like a ball I'll make you dribble
Your the shrapnels in the rubble
I'm a raging bull, a rebel
It's all about the low-blow brown girl
The no blood, no love hot girl
The juking juking jumping off the decks girl
The juking juking jumping off the rocks girl
You big dummy!

[Chorus]
U-R-A-Q-T
Is your dad a dealer? 'Cause you're dope to me
You throw them balls across the country
You win gold medals for when you're with me
You big dummy!
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
Right then, it's on, right then, it's on
You big dummy!

M.I.A.

One of the most musically-diverse and perplexing artists of the 2000s, Mathangi “Maya” Arulpragasam is arguably the decade’s best representation of Hip-Hop in its truest form and artistry in its broadest, most diverse format. Her lyrics are as political as Public Enemy, her sound is more eclectic than Stankonia-era Outkast, and she is as aesthetically-driven as Kanye West.

The road that M.I.A. was forced to travel to international stardom was not an easy one. Born on July 18th, 1975 in Hounslow, West London to Sri-Lankan Tamil immigrants, she moved to her parents' homeland when she was only six months old. However, it was the Sri Lankan Civil War which came to shape her childhood. During her formative years, she witnessed many her father was hunted as an enemy of the state, her schools were bombarded, and her impoverished family was constantly in hiding. In 1986, her family moved back to London to find stability and a sense of relative peace.

In England, she discovered her artistic talents and completed several years of secondary education in fine art – eventually gaining attention as a visual artist, painter, and musician. In the early-2000s, Maya began to seriously explore her musical talents and used the internet and underground radio as the means to build her reputation as a unique and talented firebrand. Amidst her no-nonsense politics, however, critics from around the world heard a talent in the making.

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