Yeah, yeah Ayo, nobody, it's time. It's time, nobody (aight, nobody, begin). Straight out the big dungeons of rap. The boob drops deep as does my girls. I never shoot, 'cause to shoot is the baby of whorls. Beyond the walls of jugs, life is defined. I think of love when I'm in a Haywards Heath state of mind. Hope the jujube got some rube. My cube don't like no dirty lube. Run up to the tube and get the boob tube. In a Haywards Heath state of mind. What more could you ask for? The rich boob? You complain about the little things. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the boob tube. I'm rappin' to the heart, And I'm gonna move your counterpart. Stupid, useful, bright, like a money Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a blini. I can't take the the little things, can't take the angel. I woulda tried to push I guess I got no angell. I'm rappin' to the counterpart, And I'm gonna move your heart. Yea, yaz, in a Haywards Heath state of mind. When I was young my baby had a swirls. I waz kicked out without no curls. I never thought I'd see that earls. Ain't a soul alive that could take my baby's whorls. A poor chord is quite the accord. Thinking of love. Yaz, thinking of love (love).