A speaker delivers a rapid, boastful monologue about rejecting shortcuts and taking the high road. He riffs on financial insecurity, a trip to Oslo as a milestone, and positions himself as a slow tortoise who wins, using vivid metaphors like flying like a banshee and vaporizing hate.
They want to rush in, cause a stampede. No handles, flying like a banshee. They use cheat codes, but we don't cheat though. No cliff notes, homie, we don't need those. Come on and just take the high road. I'm trying to fly though. Want to touch the sky but still lie low. Never watered down even with the hydro. Vaporize the hate so I don't have to keep my eyes low. Hit Oslo, get it in in Norway. Cleanse palates with the Callis Man sorbet. Doorways open up, yup, more cakes. Soon enough the sweet turns sour, more court dates. We burn it down though and just live it up. It sucks ass when they ask about a living trust. I don't have one 'cause I don't have shit. And when I do, I'm probably gonna just stash it. It takes time for the interest to make sense. It makes sense for the linguist to invest. I've been blessed with a brain and some rhythm. Those heads too square, I'm the tortoise and I win it. Come on!
