Airport Songtext
von Afroman

We gonna get high baby, yeah
We gonna get real high

Wham, bam, thank you ma′am
Airport stress, the name of this jam
Beats I'm bumpin′
Blunts I'm sparkin'
Three hours early, can′t find no parkin′

Ticket agent mad 'cause I′m flagrant
Hostile, smoke comin' out my nostril
Sick of paying airlines to disrespect me
Let me guess, did the FAA select me?

I ain′t caring man
FAA stands for Fuck African Americans (really though)
I don't plant no bombs on children (really though)
I don′t fly no planes into buildings (really though)
My luggage is the first you grab
But what about this Arab? (calm down)


Take off my shoes
I suppose that's fine
But it's your nose, not mine
Man I′m sick of the -

Airport, the way I travel round (bagcheck)
Wish I, could keep my feet on solid ground (random search)
Always, wanted to be a superstar (spread your legs)
Now I, rather go home and drive my car (check it again)

The pilot, is a pencil neck geek
The stuckup stewardess, never speaks
Look honey, don′t start no shit
You don't like your job? Quit

I take it we′re undercover
Don't talk no jive
Have a Colt .45 next time I arrive
Pretzels, peanuts, carrots, cabbage
Dude, who came up with this food?

Sittin′ in the middle is harmless
Unless the fat people don't share the armrest
Am I scared? A little, man
Especially when I′m flyin on a, little plane


Shiverin', shakin'
Quiverin′, quakin′
Staggerin', stoppin′
No warnin', just droppin′
Ignore thoughts of a casket y'all
Bounce down the runway like a basketball

Airport, the way I travel round (bagcheck)
Wish I, could keep my feet on solid ground (spread your legs)
Always, wanted to be a superstar (random search)
Now I, rather go home and drive my car (check it again)

It′s on your face
You can't hide it
Your bag don't fit in the space provided
"Sir! You need to check that in"
Walk through security once again

The plane parked at the gate
People jump up ′cause they just can′t wait
Everybody can't make it to the aisle
So they stand underneath that uh for a while

I just sit in my seat and think
Oh my lord
I really feel sorry for your spinal chord
Money, greed, creates the need
For people to travel with speed

Save more time
Make more cash
But what good is the cash
If the airplane crash?
Flyin′ is faster, but I don't care
I got the rest of my life to get there

Cadillac, the way I travel round
Movin′ and groovin' to the sound
If I go overseas I will choose
The love boat, and take a fucking cruise

So they gonna random select me about three or four times
At the counter, at the security check point, and at the gate
Then, naw, it get better, it get better
Then, they got like these undercover airport cops
That just come out the blue and just empty yo′ bag
Out right in the middle of the aisle...