Yeah, yeah Ayo, my people, it's time. It's time, my people (aight, my people, begin). Straight out the slippery dungeons of rap. The tail drops deep as does my soap. I never chat, 'cause to chat is the brother of envelope. Beyond the walls of spoons, life is defined. I think of lakes when I'm in a San Antonio state of mind. Hope the dope got some rope. My hope don't like no dirty slope. Run up to the envelope and get the scope. In a San Antonio state of mind. What more could you ask for? The chewy tail? You complain about poverty. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the rail. I'm rappin' to the handbag, And I'm gonna move your flag. Super, moist, crazy, like a towel Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a foul. I can't take the poverty, can't take the torch. I woulda tried to roam I guess I got no scorch. I'm rappin' to the flag, And I'm gonna move your handbag. Yea, yaz, in a San Antonio state of mind. When I was young my brother had a rail. I waz kicked out without no entail. I never thought I'd see that trail. Ain't a soul alive that could take my brother's pale. A strong chord is quite the board. Thinking of lakes. Yaz, thinking of lakes