Verbal inferno

Oh, you call yourself a king? That’s kinda cute,

But your kingdom’s a sandbox, just dirt on your boots.

Talking big game while you stumble and fumble,

Flexing with words but your rhymes just crumble.

You’re like Wi-Fi on dial-up, slow and outdated,

Your style’s so bland it could never be hated.

You dream of the top but you live in the basement,

A clown in the circus that no one’s amazed with.

This ain’t just a roast, it’s a masterpiece,

Serving you shade like a five-star feast.

You tried to throw fire but I bring the heat,

You’re out of your depth, now take a back seat.

You brag about riches with second-hand shoes,

Your style’s out of date like last year’s news.

I could hand you a map, still lost in the flow,

While I’m flying so high, you’re stuck down below.

Your ego’s inflated but fragile as glass,

A legend in mirrors, but nowhere near class.

Your rhymes are like veggies nobody eats,

Plain, tasteless, and wilted — just scraps for the street.

This ain’t just a roast, it’s a masterpiece,

Serving you shade like a five-star feast.

You tried to throw fire but I bring the heat,

You’re out of your depth, now take a back seat.

You thought you could diss me? Oh, what a joke,

You’re the punchline I leave in the smoke.

Step up to battle, you better prepare,

Cause I’m carving you up like I’m slicing the air.

Your rhymes are like puzzles with pieces all wrong,

Trying to rap but can’t carry a song.

You shoot for the stars but you trip on the curb,

Claiming you’re savage but barely a verb.

This ain’t just a roast, it’s a masterpiece,

Serving you shade like a five-star feast.

You tried to throw fire but I bring the heat,

You’re out of your depth, now take a back seat.

You flex like a peacock, feathers so weak,

A bird with no song and a half-hearted beak.

You think you’re the best, but you’re living a lie,

Like trying to fly with wings made of pride.

I’m a symphony, you’re offbeat and flat,

Dropping straight facts while you stumble with that.

You’re a knock-off, a parody, lacking the flow,

While I’m writing flames, you’re caught in the snow.

This ain’t just a roast, it’s a masterpiece,

Serving you shade like a five-star feast.

You tried to throw fire but I bring the heat,

You’re out of your depth, now take a back seat.

Now you’re left speechless, mouth on the floor,

Lost in the smoke as I walk out the door.

Next time you step up, better come with some class,

Cause you just got roasted — well done, overpassed.