Oof

Don't you front with me son I'm a sorting hat Slytherine I'll throw you in the trash Cause otherwise that's litterin Drink taurine All the live long day Supply you knucklehead with cortisol To keep you at bay I'm fit as a fiddle I'm lit as a kindle We out here reppin' greyscale Cause I ain't no skittle Whatcha got there? A little ditty you whipped up? Why's it my problem you're the one tripped up? Rip it up Why so glum? Fee fi fo fum You're Pontoffel Pock I load up the gloomy gun Try to tell it how it is If that makes me a thug Choke you til you pass out And make it feel like a hug I'm putting down what you pick up Never good 'nuff All the ladies know That I got the stuff You catch my grift? Bro do you even lift? Don't try to disrupt this It's time you got your comeuppance Big whoop you wrote a song I'll put it up on the fridge You'll find your audience On R slash cringe Out there on the net You'll never survive Someone call the fat lady She's on in five Take your XLR And just pull the cord Who's in charge now? Bow down to your edge-lord Oh I'm sorry Can't handle the truth? Maybe you shoulda thought of that Before you got in the booth And you have no redeeming qualities