Landing Freestyle Lyrics

Flight Crew, prepare for landing

I don't know if I've been tricked or what, it's sus

If it's an airplane, then why the fuck

Did my dang tickets say Air-bus?

If I wanted to take the bus

I could've done that for half as much

Don't quote me, no statistics, idiot

Acting like you're out of D.C. instead of Seattle

You got an S on your chest? Talking 'bout how

It's the safest form of travel

Are you gonna swoop down and

Catch all the passengers before we hit the gravel?

That's laughable

Give me a Greyhound bus on the ground any day

You're full of it

I'd rather crash on the freeway

With Sandra Bullock, and '94 Neo

Goin' the speed of a sick cheetah

Than die, waiting for peanuts, at the Zenith

Packed in like sardines with

This common floss string

Too small for even one butt cheek

That they got the audacity to call

An Economy Plus seat

Oh, and too many demon babies screaming

Cause their parents took a Xanax and passed out asleep

Before taxiing completed

This is your captain speaking

We'll be experiencing some turbulence

I'd rather crash into a row of cars

Horizontally, in the speed bus

Than vertically from above

In a hurling Altoids tin

So thin, it only takes a misaligned pigeon

To tear up and spin

Ask the stewardess a question

She says, you can't call us that

It's not politically correct

So, less direct, I say

Okay, fair baroness of the air

Pray-tell, you walking greasy-spoon

Cooking-crack-at-a-motel-room lookin' bitch

This don't make sense

So all in all, I'm at a loss

Why does my SkyMall catalog

Say new, but the date says 1982

What is this?

Why is there a Walkman on the center leaflet?

What year did we leave Cleveland?

The captain has turned on the seatbelt light

Please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt

Quit following me

I won't return to my seat, bitch

It's just a nylon strap

And the quality is appalling to me

Shit, you're worried about me buckling up

With this trash?

Why would that be

What are the odds of surviving this plane

Falling out of the sky

Colliding with the horizon

From up this high

I'd rather die by saying fuck it to your buckles

This whole plane can suck an ass

You do you in the event of a crash

Batten down with your strapped-for-cash lap strap

And think about all the budget cuts as you brace for impact

While you buckle that Mad Max pageant sash

I'll pass on the nylon strap

I'd have better luck holding on to my do-rag than that!

This is your captain speaking, fasten your seatbelts

So let me through

Before I get rude

And charge you like a jump-start

Catapult your cart

And pulverize your ass

As a blood clot starts

Heading to my heart

Moving through my pulmonary parts

Thanks to these heinous accommodations

And that seat you need my ass to stay in

No matter the situation

This is a case of some full-on sadism

So I'll be holding you responsible

For my next eight embolisms

The captain's been in the bathroom

For half the flight, he can eat a dick

I'm not strapping on this shit

Tell him to come at me and see what'll happen

Shit, I'll shake the clot from my leg, and go right away

To sit when you make some seats where my legs can fit

It's standing room only for me, homie

I don't give a fuck

Escort me off this quote-unquote Budget-air Scare Bus

Cause that ain't a problem for me, bruh, it's a plus!

I'd rather jump on this

Last inch of patience

And go impaling my way through

The atmosphere

Tailspin the stratosphere

And go splat at impact

No meaning and no cause

Like a promise I forgot

Like I'm leaving Oz

Like a kamikaze with no purpose

No acrobats, harnesses, or holsters

I'd rather pop the airlock like a toaster

Than breathe recycled air with you vultures

When I said I wanted to experience other "cultures" for a week

I didn't mean sharing a petri dish with a bunch of freaks!

I'm sitting here debating it

Wearing an already-inflated, zipped

Life jacket, dragging a ton of bungee cords

While hoarding a whole life-raft, meant for four

Shake everybody off it, like Rose on a door

And I think I'm ready for the crash and bath

Only to check the map and laugh

These damn pilots never stick to a flight-path

Me and my raft are about to crash

Over sunny Flagstaff

I've made up my mind

I'm going rogue and solo flying

No one minds as I beeline

I'm making my way through the rows

Then people caught on and start falling on me

Like dominoes

Stepping on all the toes

It was a bit too on-the-nose

To get the door to blow

Thanks to this economy class, glorified lawnmower

And it's piss-poor, design

All these flaws, damn

Somebody's wallet's getting well-lined

Cutting corners, until they make a square into a stop sign

Guess they didn't learn nothing at all

From the barrage of fatal crashes and close calls

Hodgepodge bolts and composite walls

I've seen more of a door on truck-stop toilet stalls

All it took was a little push of a lever

And the whoosh of several

Men bum-rushing me

As I'm opening the hatch

And then it went out with a rush

Like they shook a match

See ya' bitches, I'm gone in a flash

Letting cash blow loose for these losers to

Lean out and snatch

It don't take nothing initially

To bust open the door

It feels good to be out

Officially airborne

And as I fall past the nose

I'm free, as free goes

And I see the pilot

He waves at me from out of his window

"So long bro, thanks for flying disembodied spirits air

We know you have a choice when flying

And I guess I chose free-falling and dying

And as I finally catch air, I know I made the right call

Cause I had to be going

No way am I going out

On a bus or a Boeing

So as I'm enjoying

The extra legroom

I deploy my parachute

I made using my 4X tracksuit

It's a bit of a crapshoot

Then I see the plane start to dive out of the sky

As I drift down to the ground nearby

I wave goodbye to all of them though

And as my parachute rips, from a few common holes

I fall, calling out

Geronimo