This is a song about "Jkool is the realist niggah"

This ain't 1992 bullets tumblin' out no nines

The facts is that thought is the best with the rhymes

The stars is in the building, they hands is to the ceiling

Shawty look half indian and never say a thing

I'm a magician so please focus

But the truth of the matter is,

You the the type of bitch to make a niggah want to use his fist

But it was written in cursive for this king to exist

Bad bitch mac lip she a actress have her in the coup suckin on the gear shift

This ain't a trick bitch cause i'm the realist there is, to ever fuckin exist

Hallow be thy name

The realist in the game

Lower than the lames is

As often, i do this

That gon' be the realist tell em

My raincoat, and gold wrappers, amen