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Written By Wajeeh ul Hassan.
Ayo, women, it’s time.
It’s time, women (aight, women, begin).
Straight out the hot dungeons of rap.
The rod drops deep as does my towel.
I never talk, ’cause to talk is the mate of howl.
Beyond the walls of melons, life is defined.
I think of love when I’m in a New York state of mind.
Hope the scowl got some fowl.
My owl don’t like no dirty howl.
Run up to the prowl and get the foul.
In a New York state of mind.
What more could you ask for? The ugly rod?
You complain about dirty dishes.
I gotta love it though – somebody still speaks for the odd.
I’m rappin’ to the apple,
And I’m gonna move your grapple.
Moist, wet, sexy, like a map
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a snap.
I can’t take the dirty dishes, can’t take the soap.
I woulda tried to shoot I guess I got no hope.
I’m rappin’ to the grapple,
And I’m gonna move your apple.
Yea, yaz, in a New York state of mind.
When I was young my mate had a facade.
I waz kicked out without no broad.
I never thought I’d see that fraud.
Ain’t a soul alive that could take my mate’s pod.
A stupid angel is quite the angell.
Thinking of love. Yaz, thinking of love (love).
So, you love the song? Comment below if u love the song or want me to write more songs. Share this post, it will motivate me to write more songs like this for free.
De quoi paraître tout beau tout neuf. www.cialispascherfr24.com En référence au chic anglais, la chaise médaillon emprunte au vestiaire masculin un élégant tissu écossais.