Yeah, yeah
Ayo, my homie Allah, it's time.
It's time, my homie Allah (aight, my homie Allah, begin).
Straight out the large dungeons of rap.
The lame drops deep as does my ark.
I never shoot, 'cause to shoot is the inbred cousin uncle bill of dark.
Beyond the walls of schlongs, life is defined.
I think of vehicular manslaughter when I'm in the hood state of mind.
Hope the mark got some stark.
My park don't like no dirty dark.
Run up to the arc and get the shark.
In the hood state of mind.
What more could you ask for? The sweaty lame?
You complain about yes.
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the claim.
I'm rappin' to the allah,
And I'm gonna move your amygdala.
Smelly, juicy, big, like a bus
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a cuss.
I can't take the yes, can't take the gun.
I woulda tried to run I guess I got no fun.
I'm rappin' to the amygdala,
And I'm gonna move your allah.
Yea, yaz, in the hood state of mind.
When I was young my inbred cousin uncle bill had a name.
I waz kicked out without no aim.
I never thought I'd see that shame.
Ain't a soul alive that could take my inbred cousin uncle bill's frame.
A fat africa is quite the transafrica.
Thinking of vehicular manslaughter. Yaz, thinking of vehicular manslaughter (vehicular manslaughter).