Homie

[Verse 1: Shad] Check it out If your city isn't on the map gotta make tracks Like leave, and get love to take back Those who can, do, those who can't gotta face facts But I don't talk about haters till they hate that Funny, I'm that dude based mostly out of suitcase Arguing with airports about toothpaste I'm not quoting the Quran with a vest on And who the hell's ever made a bomb out of Crest armed To the teeth (You owe me $5.99 dawg) WestJet said let the headrest recline on them So I'm cooling out, flying home through some cyclones Over timezones, sky's shining like a rhinestone Neil Diamond mines full of fine poems Y'all gotta dig when we dig and then grind these refine coals Call 'em gems, call our friends when I land back in Van like Dave, what's the shplan, man? Lets get some Sha Lin [Verse 2: Cadence Weapon] Mad international, Shad in the passenger Seat, on the beat, it's a blast like Plaxico Classico, panoramic scope, trans-Atlantic You could grab a boat, better take a plane, take me So everything I wrote, make sure it sounded dope, Instagram photo Showing shows to the folks at home, and the span grows Make rap grows, rent a van, go and pack clothes Play some rap shows, get some cash, then go back home From British to the District, I spit a sentence Be there in an instant for an instance, so witness Here for a good time, not a long time With some good songs and it all rhymes, alright Penned up in the confines of her thigh, just to bust out Just to share the confines of my mind Ya, Dirt City, real city I rep Hit me up if you need a sublet, oh yes [Verse 3: Shad] Yea, a couple MacBook bros making hot songs Over Hotmail, T.com Back to the future, kid with the faster computer brain Marty McShad is his username Skratch, we can do the thang, hang like a dookie chain Master the craft, and laugh like its Pootie Tang Low city rep flow, gritty plus so pretty Shoulder shimmying in my videos like the old Diddy Busy playing Whitney at my neighbour's crib Bring some whiskey they can sip and stay a bit, pray before I make the trip Labels wouldn't check for the kid, no babysit Now every stage is like home when I'm playing it Hotel checkouts, check out the passport Miles on the dashboard, that was just last tour Now I'm back, and I'm sitting till my back's sore Back at the house you can catch me on the back porch