ScottiShots

fly without a flight plan

27 deep in the game, they still askin’ for the blueprint,
Like I penned the manual — wrote the book and I glued it.
Wake up, brush my teeth, same routine, no illusion,
Just a swagged-out soul, movin’ free with no confusion.
Dress how I want, vibe clean, never forced it,
Still they wonder where I’m posted — Houston or Los Angeles?
Nah, I’m chillin’ where the breeze hit soft,
On the green, swingin’ easy, lettin’ y’all talk.

P.E.M.D.A.S