Mile High Club (Crazier Version)
Genre: Raunchy R&B Comedy Jam
Starring: Kurt, Conner, Fernando, John, Chase & Devon
Flight status: Unhinged.
Altitude: Horny.
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[Intro – Kurt, echoing intercom whisper]
“This is your captain, Daddy Kurt…”
Welcome to a strictly boy flight…
No baggage fees.
Just emotional baggage… and body oil.
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[Verse 1 – Kurt (moaning into the mic)]
Private jet, leather seats, no clothes packed,
Conner slid through TSA with baby oil and snacks.
Fernando in a robe, singin’ Prince real loud,
John’s flyin’ blind ‘cause the cockpit’s a cloud.
Chase got lotion and a Bluetooth fan,
Devon lit a candle in a soda can.
Seatbelt light’s off, but the cheeks stay buckled,
Every time the plane dips, somebody gettin’ cuddled.
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[Chorus – All (body-roll harmony)]
Mile High Club, 40,000 freakin’ feet,
Six grown men sweatin’ on pleather seats.
No peanuts served, just steamy intentions,
Lav smellin’ like questionable decisions.
Kurt leadin’ this airborne bachelor bash,
Champagne sprayed like a luggage crash.
Mile High Club, ain’t no straight flight,
We cruising through the clouds in silk and delight.
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[Verse 2 – Conner (sassy & savage)]
I brought incense, whipped cream, a switch playlist,
Fernando brought rope, said “Don’t ask, just assist.”
Devon flexin’ hard in a fog machine,
Now there’s glitter in my mimosa and shame on the wing.
John whispered, “Turbulence ain’t from the sky,”
Kurt said, “Sit tight, that’s just thigh on thigh.”
Chase in the aisle doin’ splits in socks,
Pilot on the mic like, “Y’all broke the flaps off.”
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[Bridge – Kurt (spoken intercom with groans in background)]
“This is your final warning…
There are no seat assignments,
Only destiny and scented oil.
Please respect the no-pants policy.
Thank you.”
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[Final Chorus – All (soaring falsetto with church organ energy)]
Mile High Club, midair sin,
Devon’s doin’ yoga in the beverage bin.
Conner shoutin’ “Yessir” in three octaves, please,
While Fernando playin’ bongos with his knees.
John flyin’ blind ‘cause his robe too sheer,
And Chase got a disco ball hangin’ from the rear.
Kurt just vibin’, sippin’ pink Moscato,
Said, “I don’t need a passport, just bravado.”
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[Outro – Whispered Over Flight Sounds]
We didn’t land.
The sky gave up.
The jet melted.
But the vibes?
Still airborne.
KennyT69
