I’m orbit-high in my Plutoski, ice on the wrist like Kuiper whiskey,
countin’ dead presidents, call that shit ghost money,
rocket in the driveway, fuck a lease, I own the runway,
zero-gravity lean, cup full of neon plasma,
ET hoes on my line, speakin’ love in binary slang—
I just ghost-ride the Milky Way, skirt off the edge of truth,
leave your world on read, lil’ planet, Pluto never forgot you.