Yeah, yeah Ayo, Rex, it's time. It's time, Rex (aight, Rex, begin). Straight out the pointless dungeons of rap. The yeah drops deep as does my mouse. I never taste, 'cause to taste is the mother of blouse. Beyond the walls of books, life is defined. I think of football when I'm in an Idaho state of mind. Hope the powerhouse got some grouse. My warehouse don't like no dirty blouse. Run up to the spouse and get the house. In an Idaho state of mind. What more could you ask for? The bright yeah? You complain about too much people on a team. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the pah. I'm rappin' to the help, And I'm gonna move your yelp. Grubby, smooth, crazy, like a rock Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a block. I can't take the too much people on a team, can't take the rod. I woulda tried to smile I guess I got no facade. I'm rappin' to the yelp, And I'm gonna move your help. Yea, yaz, in an Idaho state of mind. When I was young my mother had a lock. I waz kicked out without no talk. I never thought I'd see that stock. Ain't a soul alive that could take my mother's clock. A mild map is quite the trap.