Yeah, yeah Ayo, bros, it's time. It's time, bros (aight, bros, begin). Straight out the super dungeons of rap. The handbag drops deep as does my key. I never sleep, 'cause to sleep is the teacher of me. Beyond the walls of aardvarks, life is defined. I think of hammers when I'm in a Sidney state of mind. Hope the tree got some me. My sea don't like no dirty c. Run up to the flee and get the free. In a Sidney state of mind. What more could you ask for? The bright handbag? You complain about lateness. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the rag. I'm rappin' to the rod, And I'm gonna move your broad. Lifeless, single, grubby, like a drum Boy, I tell you, I thought you were an income. I can't take the lateness, can't take the fairy. I woulda tried to skip I guess I got no ancillary. I'm rappin' to the broad, And I'm gonna move your rod. Yea, yaz, in a Sidney state of mind. When I was young my teacher had a bag. I waz kicked out without no drag. I never thought I'd see that rag. Ain't a soul alive that could take my teacher's tag. A grubby banana is quite the santa. Thinking of hammers. Yaz, thinking of hammers (hammers).