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OG Hindu Kush
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Fly All the Time
certain days i get perma-blazed off the purple haze
puffin' herbal strains, words and names that's obscure and strange
i burned the stage at a early age, you heard the name
from rural trains to service lanes, the surface stained
i turned the page with a irk to change but swerve the same
shine like the sun behind the scenes like some curtain shades
slurrin' and spittin' is the only time your verses spray
i heard a lot of garbage-ass rappers, but you're the worst to date
beast lurkin' on you, flossin' in your flyest gear
they figure they'll get you some day, by then you outta here
i hit the sky like i skipped town on a WestJet flight
sleep on your rhymebook and bedwet, right?
i piss on your sheets, by the time you run and get the police
i'll be above the clouds with some pidgeons, shittin' on your fitteds
listen, i get so high off this weed we burnin'
that my couch talks to me like Pee-wee Herman
certain days i get perma-blazed off the purple haze
...son, i don't even walk
yo we the flyest, the livest as plane crash survivors
'so fly i need a passport just to walk'
you know how i do when i get this high, dude
buggin' at the drive-thru, screamin' 'GIMME MY FOOD'
it's a stungun stickup out the window on my one-ton pick-up
'less my chicken nuggets gettin' done quick enough
listen up, we about to blaze - how you gon complain?
coming out your face about my life like i'd give a fuck
yeah i know you think you're tough
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that'll last as long as the stash of your mom's prescription drugs that y'all been sniffin' up
forget the love, all you get is some pity daps
cop some New Era 59/50 fitted jimmy hats
'cause you a pussy when you high, faggy when you drunk
i get pussy when i'm high, scrappy when i'm drunk
got your panties in a bunch
but yo it's not my fault that your wifey's wildin' out up in the backseat of my truck
and what? she's the one that wants to stroll through the park
yeah you might light up her life but my trees glow in the dark
my gear is light luggage, made by the Wright Brothers
my kicks got wings, i'm gettin' with flight clubbers
forget where the mic plug is, if you spit and recite rubbish
don't think we won't remember your signature bite, vultures
i keep your ears smokin' on stereo mic drums
got killed by my dumb wife, mean my widow is white, son
i was born with a third lung and my skin's so green
thought i fell from the sky and landed in Area 5-1
stereotype slut, brought the berry & lime dutch
so honey-dip stay red as the cherry on my blunt
pulled out the blade but she wasn't hairy as my nuts
slittin' the competition? that's Nancy Kerrigan-wise cuts
this paranoid dime's fucked - she carry a nine, tucked
still sharing divine skunk with various, fine smut
dope and fly as Aeroplan miles for heroin vials
we the flyest, the livest since plane-crash survivors
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