This is a song about "The realist"

We don't ever make love

Where the fuck the chorus

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Intendent attend them, cool cause

Savin' up 24 bullets with gun

The bigger the the fun

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Now tomorrow you sober wishing you ordered a soda

Pink drank on, sprite work

The dope the rhyme wizard

I got a dolla and a dream, real niggas on my team

We all the same the blacks the whites the something in between

Endless the days, forever the nights,

Niggas from where i'm from they don't fuck with fights

Saw the bombs on the news

So cool, my bitch got no shoes