Untitled

Yeah yea Yo—

You bark loud, but the bite don’t hit,

I’m a pit with no chain [uh], you a poodle in the crib.

Talk tough on a mic, but your spine made of dust [weak],

I turn rappers into rumors, you a corpse I don’t trust.

Your flow’s watered down like a dime bag stepped [trash],

I’m raw coke on the table, leave your heartbeat wrecked.

You flex fake chains, but they clank like tin [cheap],

I snatch crowns quick, boy, I bathe in sin. [facts]

Look—

I’m the landlord here, you just rentin’ a verse [pay up],

Every bar that I drop make a hearse rehearse.

You a snack in the kitchen, I’m a chef with a cleaver [slice!],

Slice syllables sharp, turn your pride to ether.

Your girl bump my tracks while she scrollin’ my name [damn],

You write love songs to her ghost—pathetic and lame.

I’m a nightmare walkin’, tattoos bleed ink [grrr],

You just TikTok dances in some tight-ass pink. [pause / crowd laugh]

You ain’t hard, you a fraud, weak lungs when you spit [choke],

I’m the type to choke silence, make the devil admit.

Every punchline heavy like a brick in a sock [swing],

Your rhymes feather-light, can’t survive one block.

See—

I’m the chalk on the pavement, cops markin’ your fall [body],

You a voicemail rapper, I don’t answer the call.

Your buzz like soda flat, no fizz in the pop [flatline],

I’m a 40-ounce bottle shatter glass when I drop. [crash!]

My slang dirty gutter, smell like piss in the stair [ugh],

Your whole catalog soft, like silk underwear.

You rap fairy tales, I spit crime scene tape [yellow line],

Every syllable’s a weapon, every bar escapes.

I don’t battle for a check, I battle for blood [real],

You a leak in the system, I’m a biblical flood.

Keep frontin’ like a boss, but your pockets on fumes [broke],

I put rappers in coffins, let the preacher resume. [amen]

Your mixtape weak, couldn’t sell to your fam [shame],

My freestyle raw, turn arenas to jam.

You chase clout on the ‘Gram, I chase respect on the block [facts],

Your identity fragile like a busted old Glock. [click]

Look—

I spit venom with precision, no stutter, no slip [clean],

You a typo on a page, I’m a manuscript.

This cypher ain’t safe, you ain’t cut for the sport [nah],

I’m the jury and the judge, boy, I burn down the court. [fire]

So pack it up rookie, go polish your lies [dust],

Your career’s a flatline, watch the monitor die. [beep—beep]

I’m the king with no crown, just scars on my fist [war],

You the kid in the crowd screamin’ “please don’t diss.” [ha!]

I’m the lock with no key, you the door left cracked [pause],

I’m the gun with one shell, you the chamber that’s jammed [tsk].

Every line’s a bullet, every pause got weight [wait…],

I turn silence to a weapon, let the crowd spectate [yeah!].

Spit fast like a drum roll, leave shells in the street [rat-tat-tat],

Your career’s on a stretcher, flatline to the beat.

I’m the alley in the night, broken bottles and smoke [glass!],

You the whisper in the dark, scared voice when you choke [cough] .......[beep—beep]