Destination? Remote. But I've been everywhere. Only thing we ain't traveled? It's time. I got my passport in my weak hand. I'ma cool off, get a sweet tan. Office filled with beats. Staying reclined till it's time to peace, son. Fuck all the chains for the cars, get a passport. See the world, open your eyes, see it back. Niggas get bread and won't leave, shit is backwards. Start with your feet, then a car in the airport. Get out your bubble, gun, blow up horizons. Son, sled in the Alps or go to the Missoula. Or tour in Japan, or go scuba in Cuba. Or land in the borough. Jirac at the Brio. Shabbat in Como, it matches my heat. Cold over sea to sea. All the things that you could see. Like them languages I speak. Out in Perry for a week. Take my nephews out to Nice. They're like, who? I'm like, we. Lifetime. This is what it sounds like when the moon and the sun collide. Speaking matter-of-factly. We're just light years ahead. Every car retarded, the garage look like a looney bin. We're coopy and depends on the fit and the type of movie in. I've been switching gears since Tracy Ellis Ross was UPN. Clutch to the stroke, got her nowhere like a droopy grin. Huh, took that Grammy home, couldn't lose again. The suit was so sharp that it could get Medusa, Cucci, Trim. Hov talking bout a hundred million. Nigga, look me in, like who that young, rich, handsome nigga with the gooey skin? Mama named him Tyler and his brothers call him T. And the bank they call him when that Y clean like season three or something. Skateboard named him Bunny Hop, his boulder lair Wolfito. Feline's named him Alpha, how long he eat the, wait a minute, pink loaf of scuff quickly. Fiat cost a buck sixty, I'll keep it a buck fifty. Y'all can't really fuck with me. Bitch, I got the fuzz and I'ma own it till they bury him. Only 29, but I've been focused since 30M. Wolf. Call me if you get lost. And like that. And like that. Be gone.