>>17617736I wrote a diss track months ago, but it never got finished because I can't write beats for shit. Here are the lyrics, if anyone wants to tell me how I did.
Title: Aokigahara no Mori
Prometheus ain't got shit on me
Cuz this track is all fire
I'll boil an entire
ocean with the heat of this pyre
made from the remains of your shitty empire
You'll burn like a tire
strapped to your car, racing away
from the shame and the pain
of hearing your name
dragged through the mud
still sounding the same, cuz nothing has changed
you were shit all along with no one to blame
but yourself. Forgot it? Here, let me help.
Oh shit, where do I begin?
I'm full of Revelations and you're guilty as sin.
Your whole career is just the white on your chin
and the tits on your chest.
Please don't tell me that this is really your best?
Bitch, clearly you don't suck it for free.
It costs an idol career and some shitty CD's.
I mean, that's what you said.
You're not above giving some head
if it makes you some bread.
But your bars are just ass,
so bend it on over, I'mma make you some cash.
You're so predictable, I can even hear your reply:
"Uhmmm, I've got millions of fans, you can fuck off and die."
Oh sorry, you say "F-word," but only sometimes.
Yet you said the N-word like you're one of the black guys.
But that's in the past! You won't say it again!
(unless you're alone or it's just you and your friends)
Yeah, I'm a nobody, but I'mma put some dirt in your eye.
And with stranger eons, even Death may die.
What is with your whack-ass lyrics?
You can write a rhyme, but you can't be coherent?
"get chopped up into diamonds"? Bitch, what the fuck does that mean?
You write a diss track, but "yA bOi WaNtS yOu To SuCcEeD"?
If that's what you want, why'd you even make that song?
You can't just be nice, then bitchslap them and keep going along
like it never happened, while the deadbraps just keep on fappin
superchattin and clappin, laughin and rippin a bong
I couldn't backpedal harder than you as Lance Armstrong
with both of my testicles on,
reverse racing a marathon!
This ho knows what goes goes
and I'm going straight for the nose
We'll go blow for blow unless she no-shows,
tripped up by all the soulless tongues on her soles.
Your thoughts are crisscrossed crickets and I'm sick of it.
Innit just a bit ironic your chronic ebonics'll blackball you faster than this bastard's after effects affect the end product's net income and outgoes the show like a slow-ass afterglow.
Hope you enjoyed the fame and fortune, cuz this is it
You could have all the money in the world and you'd still be shit.
Your flow is like a trash bag with a heavy-ass leak.
Take the cock out your mouth before attempting to speak.
Speaking of trash, how'd Trash Taste taste?
Trading you subs for a few cocks in your face.
One in your hand, and one in your ass.
Makin 'em cum fast, through the hole in your paper bag mask.
I just don't understand what you're trying to be.
They say your cringe is ironic. Looks real to me.
You hustled for years, but you're still a garbage MC.
You worship Eminem, but you rap like Cardi B.
Or more like "Konnichiwa! Watashi wa Azalea Iggy!"
"I moved here, cuz I suck dicks in my own country!"
"You only like me, cuz you can't understand me!"
You must be blind, but we can all see. Bitch, please.
Want a standing ovation? Get back on your knees.
Wait, you're called Dad? Why? Are you gender confused?
Are the trans kids the next group that you're gonna use?
Since you've been abusing that fake yuri for views
and it's gotten old, so now it's onto the next news?
Well offa my seat, bitch, Mom says I'm the king now.
King of the Nobodies with a makebelieve crown.
Still more real than you, so would you kindly bow down?
You wanted a fight, so I'm gonna take you to Pound Town.
If you wanna pray to God, this one time I'll allow.
'cause Satan-sama sure as Hell ain't gonna save you now.
Fuck it, I don't even want that throne.
What you want is attention, I just want you exposed.
If you were a real, I wouldn't have to be shown.
So I'll burn it all down and make it well-known.
I'm patiently waitin to drop the hammer again.
The cock of my 9 will be the click of a pen.
My words are the silencer to the back of your head.
Ringo, I'm your Huckleberry. Just say when.
