Matthew vs. Kaelen (feat. Maffrica)

Everyday you try to be like ye But you work for minimum wage, at the school's cafe You got a bedtime And no rhymes And probably like guys And you couldn't make a good song after 17 tries An unsuccessful one of Heidi's suitors And You're even too stupid, to be, a PE tutor Speaking of girls where you couldn't succeed Remember Bayleigh, or Campbell, Yall went to DC Should change your first name to lone And last name to lee Invest in some cologne And maybe you'd pull some girls like me Im joking but I know you don't have fun You think you're good at rapping but know that I'm second to none Move on from ye, and try to be more like matt But it might be tough cuz i know that you dont got it like that You though the mullet look good, nah, you must be trippin It was hecka outdated like how you nae nae and whippin Your bars are boring, and no one is listenin How you mess up box brownies man, get outta the kitchen Everyday you try to be like ye But you work for minimum wage, at the school's cafe You got a bedtime And no rhymes And probably like guys And you couldn't make a good song after 17 tries You're from New York not even from the city And everything that you do is an invitation for pity As a guy you're not handsome as a girl you wouldn't be pretty These disses cut deep and I know your bars ain't hanging wit me Say my bars can't hang, but currently they chillin you stuck behind my bars like your an evil villain You freak when you see me, got your hands to the ceiling Now your looking like me, I'll be Ghostface killin Say I can't follow but that's cuz I'm a leader don't interact with fakes cuz im like I'm a chip reader I got a million on the dash and a two piece light show you can't borrow my bars cuz you got a low FICO White out your lines, yea off white I might go You fell off long ago, you trippin like a psycho You on thin ice, close to flat line like a tight rope You skating in circles round and round like you in weight throw Your life is a joke like I'm watchin soap opera Reality hits when I hit like Pacino and Cocoppola Ghetto to the core, do the ghetto chores, My Glock for the sweep, it's gonna dust yours You wanna ball Imma make you crawl for it Number one is spitting at ya, you got the null bit bottle a hair grease getting rolled like Rick Better be quick, or I'll hit you with the candlestick