FLA 2 The 6

Airport next stop, it’s about 6 on the clock

Florida March break is done, ready to rock

Back to the land of the residential schools

Ran by fools who used religion to fool

Early natives captured, taught to think backwards

You know the place, Toronto, the land of Drake

Land of many others, them R&B brothers

Ceasar and Mustafa, lots of Italian mafias

Night sky, twisted towers, it’s Mississauga

Nautica cologne, immigrants from Nicaragua

My flow is slow agua, man, like Aquaman

I’m awesome damn, call me the sovereign man

I rule my own world, I’m the king of my mind

No swine ruler can fuse their mind into mine

From the city of panhandlers and many gats

Project scramblers, gamblers and cats

Meth from Arm and Hammer, snitches and rats

Informants and that’s just the surface of the map

And I’m far from home, just tryna get back

In the south of the US, where slaves were most smacked

 

Florida, the sunny state, up north to the bay

Roads white from Snow, blow ice and dope

Y’all off kilter like some damn isotopes

Ya broke, but baroque, smokin artichoke

That greenery, welcome to my scenery

 

Ay, now we boarding, flight was delayed

We sitting in the plane, the AC ain’t on plane

Not working, we all sweating bullets in pain

2 hours pass then they ask us to be deplaned

What a deep shame, it’s quite a damn game

It’s 2:30 am, now I’m back in the airport waiting

Hot like Cajun, wanna spend nights at the Days Inn

But I gotta stay here waiting, I’m saying

Me and my boys sleeping on floors like we poor

I do some school shit to pass the time some more

I rhyme galore, wrote a rap too before I soared

They call us at 3 to get on the flight, I breeze

Technology fixed, we take off from the street

Flying over the land, we ain’t over no seas

Im tryna sleep but nah my body don’t let me

I bump 90s rap for the hours im in the seat

Peace, love to the pilot that got us here safely

 

Florida, the sunny state, up north to the bay

Roads white from Snow, blow ice and dope

Y’all off kilter like some damn isotopes

Ya broke, but baroque, smokin artichoke

That greenery, welcome to my scenery

 

Got my bags, got out the place really fast

4 hours behind schedule I might add

A tad bit mad, frustration increases

But it’s chill cuz it’s still the weekend

Drive home for a bit, tryin not to sleep

Jesus take the wheel from me, count my deeds

Every breath I breathe is a fresh of sess green

I arrive at the crib, shower and hit the bed quickly

It’s now five and I’m tripped, so I just chill

Pass the hours by writing songs, I’m too ill

Sorta fun, I’m writing about the same song I’m writing now

Funny I can weave timelines like that, I’m profound