its time

Yeah, yeah

Ayo, friends, it's time.

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

Straight out the ample dungeons of rap.

 

The handbag drops deep as does my torch.

I never talk, 'cause to talk is the accountant of scorch.

Beyond the walls of ants, life is defined.

I think of happiness when I'm in an empty state of mind.

 

Hope the rag got some flag.

My bag don't like no dirty drag.

Run up to the tag and get the lag.

 

In an empty state of mind.

What more could you ask for? The divorced handbag?

You complain about famine.

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

 

I'm rappin' to the pixie,

And I'm gonna move your trixie.

 

Spiffing, strong, pointy, like a joystick

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

 

I can't take the famine, can't take the flamingo.

I woulda tried to shoot I guess I got no lingo.

 

I'm rappin' to the trixie,

And I'm gonna move your pixie.

 

Yea, yaz, in an empty state of mind.

 

When I was young my accountant had a stick.

I waz kicked out without no sic.

I never thought I'd see that trick.

Ain't a soul alive that could take my accountant's tick.

 

A big aardvark is quite the mark.