Untitled Song

Yeah, yeah

Ayo, pusssy, it's time.

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

Straight out the shmaolee dungeons of rap.

 

The wet drops deep as does my ass.

I never chat, 'cause to chat is the friend of mass.

Beyond the walls of pussssy, life is defined.

I think of pussyyy when I'm in a Hastings state of mind.

 

Hope the class got some gas.

My grass don't like no dirty glass.

Run up to the pass and get the mass.

 

In a Hastings state of mind.

What more could you ask for? The delightful wet?

You complain about dirty.

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

 

I'm rappin' to the goat,

And I'm gonna move your coat.

 

Smooth, bumpy, ample, like a fishy

Boy, I tell you, I thought you were an ishi.

 

I can't take the dirty, can't take the smelly.

I woulda tried to smile I guess I got no belly.

 

I'm rappin' to the coat,

And I'm gonna move your goat.

 

Yea, yaz, in a Hastings state of mind.

 

When I was young my friend had a net.

I waz kicked out without no vet.

I never thought I'd see that bet.

Ain't a soul alive that could take my friend's upset.

 

A strong teddy is quite the neddy.

 

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