It Is What It Is

Poet on the page, pen slicing like a razor

Blood on the mic, baptize it in the paper

They pissed on my name, now I’m storming like KatrinaLyrics sharp enough to carve my name in arenasA rose that grew from the mud, no petals lostCame for my crown, now they paying the cost

They tried to write me off, but I’m the author of vengeance Script so divine, it’s rewriting your sentence Crown of thorns, I wear it like a halo

Poet to the peak, let the whole world say so

Rhyme so fine, it’s a line they can’t trace though

Rose from the dirt, now I bloom where they lay low

Poet's pen got venom, spitting snakes out the letters They’re playing checkers, I’m the chessboard setter They bark loud, but I’m the silence that deafens Turn beef into stew, let ‘em marinate lessons I’m the rose that pricked the hands of pretenders Lyrics like daggers, they cut through agendas They call me Poet ‘cause my words write fate Every bar’s a crown jewel, set heavy with weight Poet on the board, every move checkmate,Y'all pawns in my shadow, tryna imitate Crown heavy, tilt it, my pen bleeds fate,

They talk behind my back, but can’t hold my weightRoyal with the schemes, every line a decree,

They spit nonsense, I spit poetry.

King of the chessboard, y’all stuck on check,

I’m ten steps ahead, y’all ain’t caught up yet.

It is what it is, kid, bow to the king,

Name on your lips, now hear the crown ring.

Poet with the venom, my words don’t miss,

Y’all dissed my name, now choke on this.

Poet paint pictures, Michelangelo flows,

Y’all finger-paintin’ sloppies, I’m Sistine prose.

Call me the scribe of the dirty south throne,

Etch your epitaphs with bars, engraved in stone.

Claim you the GOAT? Boy, I’m the shepherd,

Wrangle these sheep, pen sharper than a leopard.

Every rhyme a dagger, every verse a snare,

Y’all stuck in the trap, I’m breathing fresh air.

Ain’t no debate, this checkmate fate,

King’s Gambit plays, I dominate states.

Who want the smoke? My flow’s the inferno

They whisper in shadows, I move like Diurno

Poet’s not a name, it’s a title I own

Call me king, let the dirt kiss the throne[verse

Pawn pushers on my board, acting royal, they jesters,Swing swords with my words, y’all soft like polyester.Poet’s pen sharper than your mama’s Sunday roast,Checkmate in two moves, turn your king to a ghost.Claiming you a knight, but you tripped on your steed,I’m the king of this board, planting poisonous seeds.Every rhyme, a dagger, cutting deep in your soul,

Your weak bars crumble, I’m devouring them whole.Crown the Poet, king of the board, it’s a blitz, kid,Cross my name? Bet you drowning in the spit, kid.Wordplay heavy, no escape, it is what it is, kid,

Bow down or get checked—ain’t no fibs, kid.

They tried to scribble my legacy, smear the ink,

But Poet’s quill cuts deeper than you think.

Pages burn, ashes fly, truth rise from the pyre,

Your weak schemes? Flat, no spark, no fire.

I’m a bishop diagonal, slicing through your lies,

Preaching on this it is what it is kid no debate