Erinem - 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 f*ck
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 f*ck 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 f*ck
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