비행기

"비행기" carries the particular weight of someone who wants to go somewhere but isn't sure why. Giriboy layers a melancholy boom-bap skeleton beneath a production that feels simultaneously cloudy and precise — drums that land with satisfying weight, synths that drift rather than anchor. His delivery is characteristically unhurried, sitting behind the beat with the ease of someone who has made peace with not rushing toward anything. The rap here reads less like performance and more like internal monologue, the kind of thinking that happens when you're watching the sky and mapping your dissatisfaction onto the shapes moving through it. There's a wistfulness that never tips into self-pity, held in check by a dry self-awareness that runs through his best work. The chorus, if you can call it that, opens the track's emotional ceiling without shattering the mood — a brief lift that makes the return to earth feel more deliberate. This is headphone music for commutes where the destination doesn't particularly matter, for sitting in airports or on rooftop stairs, for the specific feeling of being in motion without momentum.