Cruisin down the Jericho, couped like a coffin
G6 growlin low and that stereo coughin
I pull up slow, window rolls down easy
Cona hops in, crank the air so breezy
He’s rockin a suit, shades, — two blunts lit
“Hope you got snacks  — I'm about to talk shit”
Glovebox got a grinder, console got box cigs
Trunk’s full of snacks and a shovel, we gotta dig

Cona rollin straight J cones with precision
Fingers flippin zigzags like it’s straight long division
I twist the knob, top drops, bass pops bangin
He sparks the spark, car coughs, now we hangin
We got a zip in the dash, flask fulla fire
Playlist all cursed tracks and flat tires
He straps in, I grin, sun sinks like nemo —
Time to burn tred, and start the pre-show

Kick that shit into high gear — hit the GCP

White lines flicker like a flip-book film
Every exit's burnin — and we drivin on kiln
Mirror meltin, smoke belchin out vents
Cona talkin code like he off his meds
We swerve through civics like it’s Sunday service
Semi honkin horns makin Cona real nervous
Left lane lawless, no signal in sight
I drift like Tokyo — born in past life

Tailgatin Teslas, passin Prius in prayers
Subaru got scared, tried to vanish in air
He grins, pulls a bowl from his pocket like a prize
“This one hits so hard it’ll make you recognize”
Window down, hand out, fingers flyin vigil
Cop saw the car but blinked — it was just a riddle
We ghost, we glide, down fate's dark freeway
Every honk a hymn, every curve a cliché

City skylines on the horizon split smoke like butter

Welcome to the City with grits in the gears
Cabbies cursin tongues be meltin your ears
We cuttin corners like coke in the club
Run red lights just to dodge dirty grubs
I’m tailgatin police, lane-hop lurkin
Fishtailin Ubers — they swear I’m still workin
Cona yellin, “Hit that bike lane — swerve right!”
We dodge a Chinese delivery almost mid-slide

No blinker — quick switch, I don't signal for karma
Pulled a three-lane shift pass the deli for shawarma
Squeezed through traffic like a front tooth gap
Popped a wheelie in a Prius — thats front page cap
Pedestrians flip us off like Broadway signs
We smile back, passin j cones, killin’ lines
Taxi wars, turnin' fights, every block a beef
We ghost-ride the G6 through sudden disbelief

Through the chaos, we found the elevator to heaven —

Up the ash-cloaked path where the sky starts to shimmer
Mount Kushmore calls with a soul-splitting glimmer
The G6 groans — wheels melt from friction
Yo speakin’ Hebrew, lost into prediction
Clouds puff plush like vape-shop pillows
We ascend to the peak where the gods get giggles
Volcano breath — we inhale into eternity
Brains bubble out its divine absurdity

One toke — upload complete, ego deleted
I became a .PNG, fully depleted
Wings sprout, data routes, I'm a file in flight
Streaming through a stargate lit by Sprite
Flapping around he fully embraced the fabled Flounder
Few rounds of 2K and he's flipping tables round' here
Transition to Mr. Green, so expensive, he cravin greed
Drop to ground floor, before we peace'n — hit the Dwayne Reed

Reality rips — the volcano glitches.

Now we’re swervin through tunnels made of traffic light ghosts
Crossin' Williamsburg with a demon on roast
Cona’s laughin, eyes spiralin and swirlin
“Chill the fuck out bro, before I starts with the hurlin”
My foot hits the gas, or maybe its a turtle
Street folds in half like a Herrick's themed journal
Signs melt — “One Way” becomes “Nah, Try It”
Siren sounds speak Latin, when we try to deny it

Warp gate open in a Queen's gas parking lot
We floor it through the walls while we still in the parking spot
Cops got wings, taxis got teeth
I’m seein Morse code blinkin in between the concrete
Flashes. Passageways. Psychadelic screams
We exit the bridge — or we wake from a dream
We coast in slow, smellin like hell high and glory
Taco Bell sign glows —  man this a goddamn story

Heaven ain't clouds — it’s drive-thrus at dawn
We ride like legends, then we gone

Wheelman

c0na