Sir Real J. - Shot Caller [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Chorus]
Check out my credentials, you ain't fucking with me
Beat the beat up like Bobby did Whitney
As like Nicki, balled like Britney
Bitches on my dick good thing a nigga lengthy

(Sir Real J)
Yeah I got potential, on that instrumental
Beamer brand new, retail- no rental
Haters leaking red, got 'em looking full menstrual
Body filled with lead like an old school pencil
On my own level, well honey I'm mental
All about the hits, and yet they call us gentlemen
Steady with the lift, and I'll only settle when
I am with my dogs, and a bad bitch- no kennel
Shot caller, Montana on the track
On top of all 'ya like Montana on a map of us
Or a Maine man I must
Reach a pine tree state smoking prime tree blunts
Conversing in converses, call me Chuck
Probably touching more ice than hockey pucks
It's a mighty fine feeling that's obvious
So these dudes talk shit, but later copy us
See what a hobby does? It turns my cares into something
On my way to ball, turn my carriage into a pumpkin- that's stunting
The ones who called this nothing all bluffing
Cuz now my wallet's pumped like it's bumping Joe Budden

[Chorus]

(T. Rose)
Look, I'm the best to ever do this shit, retire my jersey
I think I'm James Worthy of a spot in the hall with the greatest
No bullshit, I'm balling like the Lakers
So shooters out here tryna Steve Kurr me
Tryna disturb me, deter me from my journey
Kind of like Jabari Parker, young nigga tryna ball and be Amish
Being honest, that's a tough fucking metaphor, sheesh
I leave your brain James, toting Metta World Peace
I go hard and you can't guard this
Game tight as the admissions officers at Dartmouth
Offer her a hard dick, got Verizon bars' strength
Throwing shots at your back, I don't have to call shit
Peace Kenan

[Chorus]

(Sir Real J)
I'm a shot caller, got dollars a lot taller
My esteem is hot water. I'm scalding- get scholar'd
Pay me by the sentence- hit 'em with that gavel in court
Which makes cents, cuz I travel more than a young baller
Check out my credentials, suite is presidential-
-face on the bill so old it's sentimental
Send me a metal. I've been running these tracks for a minute
I ain't finished, I exhibit why we visit life's limits
I get to the business, hit the digits, then I'm splitting
Like the linen of my pocket, when I fit my wallet in it
Problem isn't all these bitches, it's the fucking air conditions
I be frigid, icy, twenty-twenty vision
And I have risen from the grey, from the day-to-day
Sharpest of minds, keep my lines to the razor blade
Lines to the bayonét, or the bayonet, either way you get
The point of it. I coined this wit. Bitch I'm a favorite

[Chorus]