Ayo, Donald, it's time.
It's time, Donald (aight, Donald, begin).
Straight out the lonely dungeons of rap.
The box drops deep as does my rod.
I never talk, 'cause to talk is the grandfather of broad.
Beyond the walls of bananas, life is defined.
I think of buildings when I'm in a London state of mind.
Hope the pod got some god.
My facade don't like no dirty fraud.
Run up to the broad and get the odd.
In a London state of mind.
What more could you ask for? The bumpy box?
You complain about loud music.
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the orthodox.
I'm rappin' to the rock,
And I'm gonna move your clock.
Moist, lonely, sexy, like a soap
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a hope.
I can't take the loud music, can't take the banana.
I woulda tried to snooze I guess I got no santa.
I'm rappin' to the clock,
And I'm gonna move your rock.
Yea, yaz, in a London state of mind.
When I was young my grandfather had an orthodox.
I waz kicked out without no pox.
I never thought I'd see that fox.
Ain't a soul alive that could take my grandfather's equinox.
A beautiful pixie is quite the trixie.
Thinking of buildings. Yaz, thinking of buildings (buildings).
Reported to FBI for selling your wife 😎
go learn some english, stop baitin', stop with this racism kind of shit
forced copy pasta's never work my frend. try to fine something else.