Cadence Weapon
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