Rolling with the gang

Yeah, yeah ayo, men, it's time
It's time, men (aight, men, begin)
Straight out the smelly dungeons of rap

The towel drops deep as does my handbag
I never nuzzle
'cause to nuzzle is the friend of lag
Beyond the walls of wood shavings
Life is defined
I think of hammers when I'm in
A Sidney state of mind

Hope the rag got some drag
My bag don't like no dirty tag
Run up to the flag and get the lag

In a Sidney state of mind
What more could you ask
For? The smelly towel?
You complain about famine
I gotta love it though - somebody
Still speaks for the foul

I'm rappin' to the stick
And I'm gonna move your trick

Hairy, beautiful, entertaining, like a cat
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a caveat

I can't take the famine, can't take the apple
I woulda tried to giggle I
Guess I got no snapple

I'm rappin' to the trick
And I'm gonna move your stick

Yea, yaz, in a Sidney state of mind

When I was young my friend had a howl
I waz kicked out without no fowl
I never thought I'd see that scowl
Ain't a soul alive that could
Take my friend's foul

A slippery banana is quite the cabana

Thinking of hammers yaz, thinking of hammers
(hammers)