This is a song about "The realist"

Binded between, carryin' the flag for an area that drag

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

But elon don't got no proof

From the gutter to the roof

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Sort of remind you, why you don’t court no vagina

That gyal want mi ride har

Down the street to the car,

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

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

As the tao converted the thief

Ima let her be by herself in peace

It's ironic they call me a fresh breath no joke

Here's the answer and the antidote:

All the time with this glock of mines

Endless the days, forever the nights,