Yo, check it, I'm the king on this grind,
You can’t rap, just wasting my time.
You got no bars, just lip service,
Tryna flex, but your flow ain't verses.
Bitch, look at you, all caked up in that paint,
Thinking your looks hide the lie, you ain't.
Wanna be a Thug but you can’t even ride,
Fake as hell, like a ghost with no pride.
Money stay low, pockets lookin' so flat,
Ain’t got a dime, you just a broke brat.
Your wardrobe trash, look like a thrift-store mess,
Can’t dress to save you, girl, I must confess.
Relationships? You keep losing the game,
Always alone, just stuck in your shame.
No crew, no fam, ain't nobody in sight,
You’re ghosting your life, missing every light.
You call yourself tough, but you ain't even hard,
Just a scared little pup, always on guard.
I’m the savage, bitch, with a mic in my hand,
While you fake it till you make it, can't understand.
So step back while I tear you apart,
Ain't got the talent, just playing the part.
Makeup and mistakes, that's your whole damn game,
But against me, you’ll forever feel pain.
Time to bow down, know you can't compete,
'Cause this diss right here tastes like defeat.
So take your ass home, let this lesson unfold,
In the rap game, I’m the motherfuckin' gold.