This is a song about "Counting the facts"

This bitch is badi dream of pockets full of bands

Smashing stereos and emcees, just bringing the facts/

Grasping the facts/im unheard of though

Word, absence will make the heart grow

To say life goes on, now they're counting money on the table

I can make music that makes sense, but not meant to be stable

And a 'please to meet cha' when they reach in, the deep ends of your knee pants

Literally you gotta make attendancy to brilliantly detach the facts

That's your opinion, son, i'm giving the facts

I gave ya'll wizardry with my hands

Smashing stereos and emcees, just bringing the facts/

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

It's ironic cause i always hear you talking about one

I must be imaginin' half of the facts i'm examinin',

Counting out you aint amounting nowt so please fuck off now leave outta the door

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for