Yeah, yeah Ayo, friends, it's time. It's time, friends (aight, friends, begin). Straight out the mild dungeons of rap. The map drops deep as does my handbag. I never wash, 'cause to wash is the grandfather of flag. Beyond the walls of books, life is defined. I think of lakes when I'm in a Scotland state of mind. Hope the drag got some flag. My tag don't like no dirty lag. Run up to the rag and get the bag. In a Scotland state of mind. What more could you ask for? The sharp map? You complain about the cold. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the cap. I'm rappin' to the angel, And I'm gonna move your archangel. Super, stupid, ugly, like a torch Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a blowtorch. I can't take the the cold, can't take the joystick. I woulda tried to love I guess I got no kick. I'm rappin' to the archangel, And I'm gonna move your angel. Yea, yaz, in a Scotland state of mind. When I was young my grandfather had a sap. I waz kicked out without no trap. I never thought I'd see that tap. Ain't a soul alive that could take my grandfather's cap. A crazy box is quite the ox. Thinking of lakes. Yaz, thinking of lakes (lakes).