This is a song about "The realist homies"

Out with the homies, cuz shorty wanna be a thug

With a rosa parks state of mind, i don't give a fuck

This is for my homies in the pen, man i rhyme tight,

Vertebrae snapped, gats...huh, i swerve em right

You're going home alone cause homies show you to the exit

And every nigga suddenly be rappin bout that trap shit

I bet homies went on google to search the reference i previously made/

But his deferred, and blurred and changed in shapeit's fate, it wasn't my choice to make

Uh, every time i’m in my city, i be acting like my shit don’t stink

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

I know just what you need nigga that know when to leave

But a lot of my homies like to tote the laser beams

Today ima choose to be the realist, i'm a realist, fearless,

All my peers doing years beyond drug dealinghow many caskets can we witness