verse 1
C Em
Fire up the jet pack, no plans to land or head back.
G Am
Stacking bread, jackin' cheese off a trap of dead rats
C Em
Flap my wings and sweat raps, the captain needs a wet nap.
G Am
Get the Zags, and blunt wraps. Grab the swisher gut that
C Em
Pack your bags, get some traction blasting off the launch pad.
G Am
You might get the ashes on you I don't think you want that
C Em
Ain't gotta help me up I did that for my drunk dad,
G Am
been there done that I don't need to flaunt that
C Em
I'm on that grown shit, blow dro smoke spliffs.
G Am
Four door space shuttle out the O-zone, shit
C Em
I don't fly coach I coach folks on fly-ness.
G Am
Boatloads of dope flows, hope flows, the tides in.
C Em
Gold touch of Midas post up and light it
G Am
Get toasty, stay crispy like a roast duck that's flying.
C Em
I'm in the sky and I ain't sure when I'll be coming down
G Am
Go ahead without me I'll be on the next shuttle out
C Em
Haven't been home in a minute, so independent
G Am
no way to know where I'm going.
C Em
But Imma be right back,
G Am
Imma be right back.
C Em
Flown to the limits, always been a mission.
G Am
So distant.
C Em
I keep missing my flights back,
G Am
but Imma be right back.