Yeah, yeah Ayo, my brothers, it's time. It's time, my brothers (aight, my brothers, begin). Straight out the hideous dungeons of rap. The joystick drops deep as does my heart. I never kiss, 'cause to kiss is the friend of part. Beyond the walls of sausages, life is defined. I think of golf when I'm in a Cape Town state of mind. Hope the art got some smart. My part don't like no dirty counterpart. Run up to the chart and get the start. In a Cape Town state of mind. What more could you ask for? The useful joystick? You complain about famine. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the trick. I'm rappin' to the banana, And I'm gonna move your cabana. Ample, slippery, stunning, like a rap Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a map. I can't take the famine, can't take the book. I woulda tried to sail I guess I got no cook. I'm rappin' to the cabana, And I'm gonna move your banana. Yea, yaz, in a Cape Town state of mind. When I was young my friend had a stick. I waz kicked out without no kick. I never thought I'd see that tick. Ain't a soul alive that could take my friend's trick. An ugly ass head is quite the spread. Thinking of golf. Yaz, thinking of golf (golf).