Yeah... Cortez been talking like he got next, Somebody gotta tell him the truth.
[Verse 1] Cortez on the mic? Man, that's hard to believe, Every verse sound like it was written in a minute and a half with no sleep. You call that rap? That's a rough first draft, Every time you drop a track, people try not to laugh.
Talking like a heavyweight, but your bars lightweight, Whole career looking like a typo, not a highlight. You say you're going up, but the numbers disagree, The only thing you're carrying is your own insecurity.
And I ain't even trying, that's the funniest part, You lose every battle before the battle can start. Got the crowd looking confused every time that you spit, Like, "Wait... that's the line he thought was a hit?"
[Hook] Cortez, stop acting like you're next in line, Your best sixteen couldn't touch my weakest rhyme. Talking real big, but the facts don't fit, And you look like Little Bill trying to talk like a king and miss.
[Verse 2] You got confidence, I'll give you that much, 'Cause your skills ain't enough, so you're using a crutch. Every bar recycled, every flow off beat, Sounding like you learned how to rap from a broken receipt.
You say you're a problem? You're barely a quiz, Got the mic in your hand looking lost as it is. Every punchline weak, every setup falls flat, I've heard better freestyles from people who don't rap.
Looking in the mirror, talking "GOAT" every day, Meanwhile the audience keeps looking away. You want respect? Better work for the title, 'Cause right now your whole catalog's forgettable.
[Outro] No hate, just facts on a beat, If rap was a race, you'd still be finding your feet. Cortez, you wanted smoke, now you're stuck with the truth, You got a lot of confidence— Just not a lot of proof.
