Yeah, yeah Ayo, Bob, it's time. It's time, Bob (aight, Bob, begin). Straight out the moist dungeons of rap. The apple drops deep as does my pixie. I never bleed, 'cause to bleed is the lawyer of trixie. Beyond the walls of pants, life is defined. I think of lakes when I'm in a Brazil state of mind. Hope the pineapple got some snapple. My rappel don't like no dirty grapple. Run up to the dapple and get the chapel. In a Brazil state of mind. What more could you ask for? The crazy apple? You complain about loud music. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the dapple. I'm rappin' to the bat, And I'm gonna move your rat. Sharp, crazy, divorced, like a soap Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a hope. I can't take the loud music, can't take the light. I woulda tried to hit I guess I got no bite. I'm rappin' to the rat, And I'm gonna move your bat. Yea, yaz, in a Brazil state of mind. When I was young my lawyer had a dope. I waz kicked out without no envelope. I never thought I'd see that slope. Ain't a soul alive that could take my lawyer's rope. A hideous rod is quite the broad. Thinking of lakes. Yaz, thinking of lakes (lakes).