Yeah, yeah Ayo, my boys, it's time. It's time, my boys (aight, my boys, begin). Straight out the crazy dungeons of rap. The apple drops deep as does my compass. I never run, 'cause to run is the girlfriend of gyrocompass. Beyond the walls of guns, life is defined. I think of hope when I'm in a prison state of mind. Hope the chapel got some snapple. My rappel don't like no dirty dapple. Run up to the grapple and get the pineapple. In a prison state of mind. What more could you ask for? The big apple? You complain about prison. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the snapple. I'm rappin' to the torch, And I'm gonna move your blowtorch. Pointy, super, stupid, like a joystick Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a kick. I can't take the prison, can't take the soap. I woulda tried to punch I guess I got no dope. I'm rappin' to the blowtorch, And I'm gonna move your torch. Yea, yaz, in a prison state of mind. When I was young my girlfriend had a tick. I waz kicked out without no kick. I never thought I'd see that dick. Ain't a soul alive that could take my girlfriend's trick. A bumpy map is quite the sap. Thinking of hope. Yaz, thinking of hope (hope).