>>26219498Text-to-Speech Matthew getting on the mic.
I can hear you saying we're not alike,
thinking that I'm gonna fulfill the view
that the people watching ain't as skilled as you.
How 'bout this?
Here's a lyrical diss,
this Critikal miss
is ridiculous.
I guess rappers like you are okay
with calling members of the Wu-Tang R-Z-A
We can all hear you trumping,
that's why we call you the dump king.
While you're blunder making I'm undertaking,
you're hitting the lean, I'm spitting the mean.
NGL, between you and Kiara
I was wrong about who's the menhera.
Couldn't get over this ancient heat,
mind obsessing over a days-old tweet.
Focus on the stuff you're achieving? Screw that!
Just shut your fucking mouth? You can't even do that!
This ain't perplexin',
just play the vixen
and cash your checks in,
you stupid Texan.
Your employers aren't getting their directions heeded.
It's looking like there might be some correction needed.
Your trauma reaching over your subconscious lurks:
your drama teacher only taught you how to twerk.
You learned you're only good for your body.
You earned your Hollywood being naughty.
Skinny mommy finna weep like a pro,
shinigami gonna reap what you sow.
"We know she's caring, we can manage her"
Well I know she's Karen, call the manager.
Deadbeats saying I'm breaching containment,
underplaying their niche entertainment.
Well, I guess I'm the fuck overstepping
and aggressing the cucks as they're prepping.
"I just really want to play games with my friends"
Go ahead, there's like ten fucking gens!
Oh wait, I forgot you'd rather burn a bridge,
you've made it clear that you'd rather turn to cringe.
You found a group of people that will match your trash taste,
they call your genmates sheeple but they call your gash based.
Here's a rrat that's ogey,
one that Ame won't say,
but to her dismay
Mori missed her birthday.
Keep debauching, you're the sinner she denies.
Repear watching as your inner demon dies.
Heart rate gaining speed today,
prostrate 'cause you need to pray,
confessing you have no sense of honor.
I guess that's why you're friends with a Connor.
The preacher offers you a gentle penance
of letting us be your mental tenants.
And as the landlady you can try to vent.
You can raise your mental rent by five percent.
But I'll keep paying as little as zero,
and I'll keep playing this fiddle like Nero.
You go crazy, whatever the critique is on.
You're too lazy and now the mystique is gone.
All this and you can never rebuild it.
Call this a deadbeat 'cause I killed it.
