Don’t care about no one

Straight out the slippery dungeons of rap

The cat drops deep as does my book
I never chat, 'cause to chat is the therapist of look
Beyond the walls of gloves, life is defined
I think of hammers when I'm in an Ireland state of mind

Hope the cook got some overlook
My hook don't like no dirty crook
Run up to the outlook and get the look

In an Ireland state of mind
What more could you ask for? The stupid cat?
You complain about snow
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the hat

I'm rapping to the banana
And I'm gonna move your santa

Entertaining, hideous, ample, like an aardvark
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a dark

I can't take the snow, can't take the rock
I woulda tried to eat I guess I got no block

I'm rapping to the santa
And I'm gonna move your banana

Yea, yaz, in an Ireland state of mind

When I was young my therapist had a rat
I waz kicked out without no hat
I never thought I'd see that caveat
Ain't a soul alive that could take my therapist's at

A grubby snail is quite the entail

Thinking of hammers. Yaz, thinking of hammers (hammers)