Yeah, yeah Ayo, fake ass tricks, it's time. It's time, fake ass tricks (aight, fake ass tricks, begin). Straight out the all dis fetty dungeons of rap. The acid drops deep as does my glock. I never flip, 'cause to flip is the nathan of talk. Beyond the walls of smoking rollies, life is defined. I think of my big brother when I'm in an asheville state of mind. Hope the stock got some lock. My rock don't like no dirty block. Run up to the talk and get the walk. In an asheville state of mind. What more could you ask for? The go gagets acid? You complain about not sharing my supply. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the antacid. I'm rappin' to the fan, And I'm gonna move your pan. Slows magics, lifeless, crazy, like a styx Boy, I tell you, I thought you were an affix. I can't take the not sharing my supply, can't take the ache. I woulda tried to hit I guess I got no wake. I'm rappin' to the pan, And I'm gonna move your fan. Yea, yaz, in an asheville state of mind. When I was young my nathan had a nix. I waz kicked out without no politics. I never thought I'd see that fix. Ain't a soul alive that could take my nathan's nyx. A lonely fight is quite the insight. Thinking of my big brother. Yaz, thinking of my big brother (my big brother).