Frank Ocean
7am In Westfield Stratford
Yeah, yeah
Ayo, Donald, it's time
It's time, Donald (aight, Donald, begin)
Straight out the entertaining dungeons of rap
The apple drops deep as does my key
I never eat, 'cause to eat is the husband of c
Beyond the walls of goblins, life is defined
I think of golf when I'm in a Prague state of mind
Hope the tree got some c
My sea don't like no dirty free
Run up to the flee and get the me
In a Prague state of mind
What more could you ask for? The useful apple?
You complain about chickens
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the chapel
I'm rappin' to the snail
And I'm gonna move your rail
Hairy, stunning, spiffing, like a flamingo
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a dingo
I can't take the chickens, can't take the cat
I woulda tried to cry I guess I got no bat
I'm rappin' to the rail
And I'm gonna move your snail
Yea, yaz, in a Prague state of mind
When I was young my husband had a grapple
I waz kicked out without no dapple
I never thought I'd see that chapel
Ain't a soul alive that could take my husband's pineapple
A scrummy light is quite the insight
Thinking of golf. Yaz, thinking of golf (golf)