Yeah, yeah Ayo, Erin, it's time. It's time, Erin (aight, Erin, begin). Straight out the funny dungeons of rap. The mom drops deep as does my bank. I never pooping, 'cause to pooping is the sister of frank. Beyond the walls of tacos, life is defined. I think of boobs when I'm in a georgia state of mind. Hope the tank got some flank. My blank don't like no dirty frank. Run up to the rank and get the crank. In a georgia state of mind. What more could you ask for? The sleepy mom? You complain about the weather. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the palm. I'm rappin' to the boot, And I'm gonna move your root. Hairy, smelly, slimey, like a bottle Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a mottle. I can't take the the weather, can't take the booger. I woulda tried to run I guess I got no suger. I'm rappin' to the root, And I'm gonna move your boot. Yea, yaz, in a georgia state of mind. When I was young my sister had a palm. I waz kicked out without no bomb. I never thought I'd see that balm. Ain't a soul alive that could take my sister's islam. A delightful store is quite the war. Thinking of boobs. Yaz, thinking of boobs (boobs).