Outkast greatest hits? AJC, UATL staffers share their personal favorites

So, in honor of André 3000 and Big Boi getting inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame on Nov. 8, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and UATL put out a call to staff and contributors to write about records that still feel as fresh in our ears now as they did when we first heard them.

From classics on their six studio albums and greatest hits release to gems on movie soundtracks, here’s nearly a dozen of our favorites.

Although the origins of “Player’s Ball” were rooted in Christmas — let’s be clear — the track doesn’t possess the joy of “Jingle Bells” or the warmth of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” For their debut single, André 3000 and Big Boi had a different celebration in mind:

A hood holiday. Or, in the words of the late Rico Wade is the song’s intro:

“Lowriders, ’77 Sevilles, El Dogs/ Nothin’ but them ‘Lacs/All the players, all the hustlers/I’m talkin’ ‘bout a Black man Heaven here.”

For over four minutes, Outkast gave listeners a first-class ticket to their own player’s ball introducing the world to their funk-inspired, Southern-inflected flows. The song became an anthem for the Atlanta hustlers who made the streets their employer, their cars a form of escapism. “Player’s Ball,” originally dropped in 1993 on LaFace’s compilation Christmas album, was re-released as the duo’s lead single to their 1994 debut album “Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik” — confirming that a player’s ball, much like Outkast would prove to be, is everlasting. — DeAsia Paige, AJC culture reporter

I can remember the first time I heard Outkast, in the fall of 1993, when the “Player’s Ball” single was released, because it just had a different sound. I was in college, and it was a time when rap music was going through a renaissance, with new albums and new sounds almost weekly. Everybody in our dorm played the first single, and we waited for the full album, which came the next spring.

The track that stuck with me was “Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik.”

I mean, just the title was enough. At the time, I was listening to many different genres, but funk and hip-hop were at the center of it all. I also was learning more about Parliament Funkadelic at the time, so the title track fit thematically with that uniqueness. From the intro instrumentals to the bass line to the first “Well, it’s the M-I-crooked-letter,” the song oozed the South like a plate of catfish, collard greens and cornbread.

My favorite group is A Tribe Called Quest, and with their groundbreaking first album and subsequent legendary two following, I gravitated toward groups that had a distinctive flavor and were a little different from their contemporaries. Enter Outkast. André’s cadence and Big Boi’s wordplay, along with the catchy chorus made the title track an instant classic.

For Outkast to drop a classic album in the midst of the emergence of Tribe, Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg, along with the prominent East Coast groups is significant in itself, and their debut album still stands the test of time.

— Rod Beard, Senior sports editor

There are more than enough Outkast tracks to solidify their status as the greatest rap group of all time, but no song Big Boi and André ever recorded captures their come-up story like “Elevators.” It might even be the reason I bought my first house in East Point. I first heard “Elevators” in 1996 on Atlanta radio, broadcast on V-103 by DJ Greg Street, whose audience voted it to the No. 1 spot on his nightly “Top 8 at 8” countdown of popular hip-hop and R&B music. The song was purposefully leaked to radio because LaFace Records reportedly didn’t believe the slow-rolling song was as bankable as the up-tempo “ATLiens,” but Rico Wade and Organized Noize Productions knew it would resonate if given a chance. They were right.

The song’s brooding keyboard chords and bottom-heavy drums and bass line anchored Outkast with their core Southern fan base and rolled right over music industry “sophomore jinx” fears like a wide-body Cadillac over gravel.

From there it’s all motivation: André opens the song remembering MARTA bus rides from East Point to Decatur with Big Boi, writing rhymes in hopes of finding higher ground and money. Big Boi reminisces on moving on up to a more Tony (Toni Toné) lifestyle from eating Rally’s fast food. And it has one of Outkast’s most memorable choruses, which brilliantly invites listeners’ family members along for the journey. It’s sonic storytelling of rising to new heights without crossing over, and it slaps just as hard in 2025 as it did almost 30 years ago. — Mike Jordan, UATL senior editor

The lyrical content on the track serves as a precursor to the “player and the poet” dichotomy of their eventual breakthrough album, 1998’s “Aquemini” that would arrive 12 months later. “In Due Time” can also be considered one of the last examples of when ‘Kast was still viewed as a lock-in-step duo before media types, and to an extent, the group themselves, began highlighting their creative differences just as much as their chemistry.

Technically, this isn’t a rap song. It’s a seven-minute, spoken word, funk, soul, bass-heavy ode to adolescent partying, sex, drugs and the real-life consequences that come with all three.

If 1998’s “Aquemini” was seen as a breakthrough for the Outkast, “SpottieOttieDopaliscious” is arguably its most creative song. I can remember walking into a high school dance in Piedmont Park, the skyline on full display through panoramic windows, and hearing it for my first time. When the drumroll, bass, and trumpets kicked in, I was looking around the room for a live band that wasn’t there. It’s a testament to where the group was with their creative process at the time and where they were headed next.

With their production trio Earthtone III, André, Big Boi and producer Mr. DJ wanted to lean even more into live instrumentation and experitmentation on “Aquemini.” They also wanted to mine their creative influences that included pimp-turned-author Iceberg Slim, reggae and Parliament Funkadelic. This was their album, and “SpottieOttieDopaliscious” very much feels like their song.

In retrospect the drumroll that kick-starts the track feels like a countdown before descending into the bowels of Atlanta nightlife. When Sleepy Brown’s crooning lays the scene, beckoning us, “Let’s party til we can’t no more,” we listen. When he warns us to “watch out here come the folks,” we take heed, but hate that the party’s over.

It’s almost too befitting that André’s story opens by connecting Charles Dickens with Atlanta’s infamous nightclub Charles Disco. As a listener, you know it’s about to be story time. This is the one about what happens in Atlanta after dark, and the young generations who so badly want to see it IRL.

In reality, we’ve all been those kids.

The ones Dre references who journey out into the streets just to experience our “first lil’ taste of the nightlife,” despite how young, and dumb we were.

We also know the other kids.

The ones Big Boi references, who are forced to grow up fast, and get caught in a cycle of self-destructive behavior. It’s easy to miss when all you can do is nod your head to the percussion from Omar Phillips, whilst agreeing when Big Boi quips, “Can’t gamble feeding a baby on that dope money/Might not always be sufficient.”

It sucks you in from jump, and its message of not getting lost in the Atlanta nightlife sauce too soon stays with you long after.

— Gavin Godfrey, UATL editor

Power, music and an electric revival.

You can’t talk about “B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad)” without first talking about the video. I’ve always thought of it — a psychedelic trip through purple fields, green pavement, beautiful women and fast cars — as my Atlanta baptism. I point to the 1:08 mark. Our hero, André 3000, is running from a pack of kids when a woman in a black convertible Cadillac swoops in to save him. Unfazed by the chaos outside, she bops to the beat. She then gives Dre that look and smiles, revealing a sparkling mouth full of gold. That was the Atlanta I moved to and man, did I love it. Released in 2000, at the dawn of the new millennium Prince warned us about in “1999,” “B.O.B.” — a breakneck fusion of drum-and-bass, gospel, electric guitar and prophecy at 155 BPM — was like nothing the I had ever heard before, especially in hip-hop. It was such a radical leap for Outkast that it felt like Dylan going electric, Miles Davis turning up the voltage on “Bitches Brew,” or Prince following “Purple Rain,” with the psychedelic-laced “Around the World in a Day.” André 3000 and Big Boi created a controlled explosion of fire and spirituality that moved seamlessly, yet recklessly, through three movements.

A confession. In 2023, I helped write and produce the Emmy-nominated documentary “The South Got Something to Say,” about the birth and rise of Atlanta hip hop.

Nobody could remember. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe she was never just a woman in a car. Maybe she was Atlanta — bold, mysterious, radiant, a little dangerous — bopping to her own beat, smiling through gold, and daring us all to keep up. — Ernie Suggs, UATL senior reporter

I’m certain there’s no one in the universe — at least not on Big Boi and André 3000’s home planets of Saturn/Uranus and Mercury, respectively — who couldn’t say “So Fresh, So Clean” is not iconic.

At the time the song released, I was in the seventh grade and still building my music collection. The feel-good anthem solidified my choice in purchasing the “Stankonia” CD — back in the days when music enthusiasts prized the album booklet and used it to learn song lyrics, if they happened to be included.

Layering that funk melody with those smooth lyrics and a synthesized organ truly brought us to church. And by God, when they took us to “The Spot” in the music video, the concept subconsciously instilled Black culture and as a religious practice. Considering funk has roots in gospel music and that Black people will go all out to go to church — fur coats included — the entire concept behind “So Fresh, So Clean” is an homage to Black identity at its proudest. — Brooke Howard, UATL reporter

The visuals in the music video are a beautiful arrangement of quick-paced moments that take place in a vibrant circus with an American flag as the background with minstrel performances. Just like the song, it’s a mesmerizing, timeless piece of art. — Kyleah Dunn, AJC social media editor

“Hey Ya!,” from André 3000’s “The Love Below” half the album, wasn’t necessarily the best song — “Roses,” “She Lives in My Lap,” and Big Boi’s “The Way You Move” might all be stronger. But none were more important than “Hey Ya!” in firmly establishing Outkast as a mainstream act that could sell out arenas, headline major festivals, and even dominate Hollywood’s opening weekends.

It anointed Outkast as masters of reinvention and cemented André 3000 as hip-hop’s philosopher-king — the rare artist who could turn loneliness into a worldwide anthem, make the dance floor feel like therapy, and years later, find the same salvation with a flute. — ES