I Can Teleport

[Intro] OK, I've been flicking through my TV for the past four hours, and all I see is this shit. What the fuck is going on, dawg? I get on YouTube, what the fuck do I see? These niggas. Conan, the fuck do I see? These niggas. Leno, the fuck do I see? These niggas again! [Hook 1] Cause I can teleport, ho I can teleport, ho Yeah, I can teleport, ho I can teleport, ho, I can teleport, ho [Verse 1: Nocando] I don't need a private jet to make a model's private wet As soon as I arrive, it's set, you ready? (I'm ready!) If she's a sweetheart, I maybe might call her Make her ex man blue in the face, Nightcrawler At Red Bamboo, I tipped the waitress nine dollars And poof! then met Reagan on a stage in Geneva Got pay like ballers and behave like scholars T-shirt and jeans, feeling white, white-collared [Busdriver] One minute downside, note the hipsters in their open flannels Then I'm in Honduras installin' solar panels Feel like I run Europe from a club in Zurich Man, I teleport so much, I only pump syrup Blank, I'm hollering at you, but it's all acid jazz, too And just remind you gentle minds for the volcanic ash And I'm eating pomegranate halves and other slow sow cow Wearing summer clothes on a snow plow, but it's easy [Hook 2] Cause, I can teleport, ho - I'm too fly to fly Yeah, I can teleport, ho - I got that light in the sky I can teleport, ho - here I go, there I go I can teleport, ho, I can teleport, ho I can teleport, ho - fuck the time-space continuum Yeah, I can teleport - and the mind states of simpletons I can teleport, ho - there I go, here I go Can you teleport, ho? I can teleport, ho [Verse 2: Nocando] I teleport from Telegraph in Oakland To Tel Aviv on my cellular telephone Talking about cheddar cheese to a Parisian, c'est la vie, making mousse Hella, Cannisse is in Toronto tonight, I'll end up in bed with your nieces Land on a launchpad like a helicopter Step to the podium and peep the teleprompter I chop down a cherry tree to make a cherry sake And went with my teriyaki and kept it mariachi [Busdriver] [?] a pair of [?] like a marching band lesson You can't learn how to do it cause the art's clandestine I'm a tall glass of milk, you're a carton of ranch dressing Well-garnered, kidding up my monkey business than Tarzan's best friend Boom, I'm here, taste inside of the nude ladies Next time baptizing niggas between the Tigris and Euphrates Feel like driving you crazy, you make my podcast squishy But I'm birth control, eliminating wormholes like bomb-ass pussy [Hook 2] [Outro] Bitch, I'm busy Bitch-bitch, I'm busy