Yeah, yeah Ayo, Dakota, it's time. It's time, Dakota (aight, Dakota, begin). Straight out the great dungeons of rap. The love drops deep as does my book. I never hit, 'cause to hit is the carer of look. Beyond the walls of monkeys, life is defined. I think of Death when I'm in a New york state of mind. Hope the hook got some cook. My crook don't like no dirty overlook. Run up to the look and get the outlook. In a New york state of mind. What more could you ask for? The stupid love? You complain about Dirty dishes. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the foxglove. I'm rappin' to the apple, And I'm gonna move your pineapple. Stunning, hideous, lonely, like a bat Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a hat. I can't take the Dirty dishes, can't take the banana. I woulda tried to mash I guess I got no americana. I'm rappin' to the pineapple, And I'm gonna move your apple. Yea, yaz, in a New york state of mind. When I was young my carer had a shove. I waz kicked out without no glove. I never thought I'd see that foxglove. Ain't a soul alive that could take my carer's truelove. A rancid map is quite the tap. Thinking of Death. Yaz, thinking of Death (Death).