[Verse 1: Shad]
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, cause 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 dog}​​
West Jet said. Let the head rest recline on them
So I'm cooling out, flying home through some cyclones
Over time zones, sky shining like a rhinestone
Real diamond mind full of fine poems
Ya'll gotta dig when we dig, and then grind
These refined coals Call 'em gems
Call our friends when I land
Back in Van. like “Dave! What's your plan man?”

[Verse 2: Cadence Weapon]
Mad international, Shad in the passenger
Seat, on the beat, it's a blast like Plaxico
Classical, panoramic scope, trans-Atlantic
You could grab a boat, but I take a plane, take pains
With everything I wrote, make sure it's sounding dope, Instagram photos
Showing shows to the folks at home, and the span grows
Make rap prose, 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
Pent up in the confines of a ride, just to bust out
And share the confines of my mind
Yeah, Dirt City, real city I rep
Hit me up if you need a sublet, oh yes

[Verse 3: Shad]
Couple of MacBook bros making hot songs
Over Hotmail. -- T dot com
Back to the future. Kid with the faster computer brain
Marty McShad is the username
Skratch, we can do your thing. Hang like a dookie chain
Master the craft, and laugh like it's pootie tang
Lo. city rep. Flow gritty, plus so pretty
Shoulder shimmying in my videos like the old Diddy
Busy playing with me at my neighbours 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, and I'm playing it
Hotel checkouts. Check out the passport
Miles on the dashboard, and 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