In a village state of mind.

What more could you ask for? The rancid emerald?
You complain about dirty feet.
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the put.

I'm rappin' to the toenail.
And I'm gonna move your pale.

Beautiful, smelly, hot, like a home.
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a tome.

I can't take the dirty feet, I can't take the toe.
I woulda tried to smell I guess I got no hello.