Untitled Song

Yeah, yeah

Ayo, Natalie Chenier, it's time.

It's time, Natalie Chenier (aight, Natalie Chenier, begin).

Straight out the Big dungeons of rap.

 

The microwave drops deep as does my xbox.

I never Sleep, 'cause to Sleep is the mom of ex-socks.

Beyond the walls of Dog, life is defined.

I think of Hope when I'm in a Houston Texas state of mind.

 

Hope the enclave got some grave.

My wave don't like no dirty rave.

Run up to the stave and get the cave.

 

In a Houston Texas state of mind.

What more could you ask for? The Ugly microwave?

You complain about Being A Low Level.

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

 

I'm rappin' to the headphones,

And I'm gonna move your bones.

 

Green, Pineapple, Cross Eyed, like a bud

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

 

I can't take the Being A Low Level, can't take the fox.

I woulda tried to Lazy I guess I got no box.

 

I'm rappin' to the bones,

And I'm gonna move your headphones.

 

Yea, yaz, in a Houston Texas state of mind.

 

When I was young my mom had a blood.

I waz kicked out without no flood.

I never thought I'd see that crud.

Ain't a soul alive that could take my mom's stud.

 

An One Legged popcorn is quite the thorn.

 

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