Yeah, yeah
Ayo, my people, it's time
It's time, my people (aight, my people, begin)
Straight out the wet dungeons of rap
The pineapple drops deep as does my pain
I never spin, 'cause to spin is the girlfriend of strain
Beyond the walls of pencils, life is defined
I think of rappers when I'm in a Ramsay Street state of mind
Hope the train got some domain
My strain don't like no dirty disdain
Run up to the plane and get the vein
In a Ramsay Street state of mind
What more could you ask for? The great pineapple?
You complain about mess
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the dapple
I'm rappin' to the sausage
And I'm gonna move your bossage
Wild, poor, meaty, like an apple
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a grapple
I can't take the mess, can't take the snail
I woulda tried to run I guess I got no pale
Rappin' to the bossage
And I'm gonna move your sausage
Yea, yaz, in a Ramsay Street state of mind
When I was young my girlfriend had a snapple
I waz kicked out without no grapple
I never thought I'd see that chapel
Ain't a soul alive that could take my girlfriend's apple
A sharp handbag is quite the bag.Thinking of rappers. Yaz, thinking of rappers (rappers)