(Verse 1)
Define real . . . holding a .9 mil
Or 9 million dollars with overly shined wheels?

Praying all night that you hopefully find skills
Or writing all the time 'till you're rhyming ill? Divine will
Asks that we separate from sin, never cave again

And meditate on when we hesitate to lend a hand
And these thoughts, they resonate within
You go on a guilt trip so you swear to change and then

You think you know it all so you "educate" a friend
But they tell you that you're wrong and all y'all never make amends
Was the divine will real or the friendship fake?

That's a question for another time, another rhyme
The question right now is do you stick to your convictions
Or switch them up to fit it, you never listened from the beginning

But lately, society's convincing you to give in
So you'll sacrifice whatever for the image of the realist
(Chorus)

I gotta, I gotta, I gotta have it, I gotta see it
I gotta, I gotta use it, I gotta be it
I gotta, I gotta do it, ain't gotta reason

But I gotta do this mess to be the realist
(Verse 2)
I'm not the realist . . . I'm just a realist

It gets so cold when you're looking at the world through a snowglobe
On the tip of my index, ran out of windex
I'm losing sight of it

But in spite of it all I'm still a fly on the wall
Flower, I'm mighty with all power, my Psyche sees all
Not even trying and y'all cowards are scared of what tomorrow will bring

I'm such a hypocrite, I' wallowing in sorrow and grief
And that's real, I'm borrowing the mark of the beast
So I'll unleash full anger on beats

Can't wait to be free, our brains are trapped in a cell
All because dumbing it down just happened to sell
It's like a race to be the last real N

I-Double G-E-R Alive, but what defines that
Does that define you? I think not but it seems pride's becoming the next swine flu
. . . Becoming the next swine flu

So get you vaccination 'fore it finds you
(Chorus)x2
(Verse 3)

While y'all fit in, I stray the followers path, always thinking but don't even have an A in all of my classes
Thoughts so morbid, I may just swallow some glass
Right after I grab a drink and then break the bottle in half

Right over my head, and end it all right here
I've been searching all my life for the end of this nightmare
That you call living, well I call living painful

Look around the world and all you see is sinning angels
Hyporites, brains full of stereotyped images
I'm sick of being judged by my sex, age, skin, or wit

Monetary benefits, or lack of
I don't mean to sound so appalled but it's ridiculous
Explain to me, what is real again, I forgot the concept

I'm honestly indifferent though
I don't care about real, I don't care about fake
I just want to be me

And I don't care if that's too try hard deep or if I'm off beat
I missed the chorus . . . I didn't put any effort into that anyway though so . . . whatever