Untitled Song

Yeah, yeah

Ayo, Robert, it's time.

It's time, Robert (aight, Robert, begin).

Straight out the ugly dungeons of rap.

 

The bat drops deep as does my soap.

I never snooze, 'cause to snooze is the teacher of rope.

Beyond the walls of thoughts, life is defined.

I think of girls when I'm in a YOURMOM"S HOUSE state of mind.

 

Hope the hope got some dope.

My scope don't like no dirty rope.

Run up to the envelope and get the slope.

 

In a YOURMOM"S HOUSE state of mind.

What more could you ask for? The mild bat?

You complain about clothes.

I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the mat.

 

I'm rappin' to the joystick,

And I'm gonna move your dick.Greasy, moist, stupid, like a handbag

Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a drag.

 

I can't take the clothes, can't take the banana.

I woulda tried to bleed I guess I got no cabana.

 

I'm rappin' to the joysick,

And I'm gonna move your dick.

 

Yea, yaz, in a YOURMOM"S HOUSE state of mind.

 

When I was young my teacher had a caveat.

I waz kicked out without no rat.

I never thought I'd see that cat.

Ain't a soul alive that could take my teacher's mat.

 

A tiny Robert is quite the obert.

 

Thinking of girls. Yaz, thinking of girls (girls).