Yeah, yeah Ayo, Brother, it's time. It's time, Brother (aight, Brother, begin). Straight out the Stanky dungeons of rap. The Cars drops deep as does my Guns. I never Walking Em Down, 'cause to Walking Em Down is the Mama of buns. Beyond the walls of Straps, life is defined. I think of Nostalgia when I'm in a Haitian state of mind. Hope the puns got some nones. My tons don't like no dirty buns. Run up to the ones and get the runs. In a Haitian state of mind. What more could you ask for? The Blue Cars? You complain about Haters. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the cause. I'm rappin' to the Houses, And I'm gonna move your farmhouses. Mad, Mean, Hating, like a Yachts Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a dots. I can't take the Haters, can't take the Money. I woulda tried to Sliding I guess I got no sunny. I'm rappin' to the farmhouses, And I'm gonna move your Houses. Yea, yaz, in a Haitian state of mind. When I was young my Mama had a faux pas. I waz kicked out without no pause. I never thought I'd see that oz. Ain't a soul alive that could take my Mama's clause. A Maf Girls is quite the curls. Thinking of Nostalgia. Yaz, thinking of Nostalgia (Nostalgia).