Untitled Song

Yeah, yeah

Ayo, Kate, it's time.

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

Straight out the greasy dungeons of rap.

 

The compass drops deep as does my joystick.

I never kiss, 'cause to kiss is the uncle of stick.

Beyond the walls of shoes, life is defined.

I think of muppets when I'm in an Ireland state of mind.

 

Hope the tick got some kick.

My dick don't like no dirty trick.

Run up to the sic and get the stick.

 

In an Ireland state of mind.

What more could you ask for? The little compass?

You complain about rain.

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

 

I'm rappin' to the torch,

And I'm gonna move your blowtorch.

 

Smelly, smooth, mild, like a head

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

 

I can't take the rain, can't take the map.

I woulda tried to walk I guess I got no cap.

 

I'm rappin' to the blowtorch,

And I'm gonna move your torch.

 

Yea, yaz, in an Ireland state of mind.

 

When I was young my uncle had a read.

I waz kicked out without no spread.

I never thought I'd see that lead.

Ain't a soul alive that could take my uncle's red.

 

A hideous soap is quite the envelope.

 

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