You sittin' in the basement with your wife beater on

Makin' robot rhymes like you're some great savior

The way you're promotin' like the voice of God

Ha!

That just ain't true

You call yourself a poet with a special touch

Yet the final product's just some slop phrases

The AI-generated trash you put out

It's cringey as hell

I'm gonna tear you down, expose your shame, all you do is kiss ass, it's a goddamn game. Too busy slobberin' on each other's egos, forgot what it means to spit real flows. You're chokin' on fake hype, scared to drop truth, suckin' up like you forgot your tooth

That shit was trash

Trash

Trash

Trash

You think it's lyrical

I think it's literal

Trash

And now you're looking cynical

Trash

Trash

Trash

You think it's lyrical

I think it's literal

Trash

And now you're looking cynical

Aye

You losers thought that shit was lyrical

But I saw the mask

Faker

I knew that shit was digital

I'm too smart for that

You users think that I'm an imbecile

I made that good cream like that shit was fuckin' literal

These creators not real

And I saw it from the get-go

you talk alota' shit

Now you getting blasted from a sicko

Hollow tips

Them lines getting stuck up in your dome

Now you're layin' on the ground

Lookin' like a brown turd

Y'all be acting like your lyrics are immaculate

How you saying this shit good when your audience is abstinent?

You're not good

I hope you come to terms with it

How you think you're great when your family doesn't listen to it?

Not one of your friends think that shit is hard

Your career is looking shaky

You're about to croak

When you play that shit

We thinkin'

"What a joke"

Claim you're the kings? Man, your game's a joke. Couldn't spot talent if it cracked your skull, you're broke. Just a bunch of keyboard tough guys, talkin' smack, spittin' reheated lines like a busted track. You run your mouths 'bout bein' great, but where's the proof? Just clowns in a false play, you can't handle the truth. Hiding in your fantasy, too damn scared, while real artists drop bars, lay you bare. So either step up your game or fall back, 'cause you're sinkin' in this pit, your talent's lack.

That shit was trash

Trash

Trash

Trash

You think it's lyrical

I think it's literal

Trash

And now you're looking cynical

That shit was trash

Trash

Trash

Trash

You think it's lyrical

I think it's literal

Trash

And now you're looking cynical

You claim to be the kings of this game, but your so-called skills are AWOL, you'd miss talent even if it slapped you silly. You're nothing but keyboard cowards, regurgitating stale lines like malfunctioning robots. You preach greatness with zero proof, just jabbering idiots playing the fool. Stay sheltered in your delusional bubble, terrified of the truth, while those with real craft expose your crap. So grow a spine, or crawl away, because you're drowning in this bottomless shit of mediocrity, signing your own artistic crap hypocrisy.