DISCLAIMER: Obviously, I don't make a habit of writing raps, but after seeing some scrubs at an open mic night a few weeks ago, I felt like having some fun. Don't read too much into it.
There must be some kind of .....disillusion
when you're desperate for answers but can't find any solutions.
Like if you just go out tonight and find yourself at an open-mic,
you expect some amateurs who just can't do NOTHING right.
Throwing words together like random shit in a cake batter,
But this stage ain't your bakery and your skills are a mockery.
I shoot holes in your style like swiss cheese,
And do it take me a while? Nigga please!
Your rhymes are so porous
your wack lyrics just bore us
So just take your ass back home and throw out that thesaurus.
Its back to the drawing board for you, son.
You can't talk thug 'til you held a REAL gun.
Your pistol don't count when all it shoots is water,
And callin you out is like lambs to the slaughter,
Cuz the only bitches you popped was your slut neighbor's daughter.
Oh snap! Did I hit a nerve?
My words are like fastballs and I just threw you a curve.
Swing all you want but you can't hit back,
I got you lookin stupid like cheese without the mac.
But its all good, I'ma go easy tonight.
you done a good enough job of makin yourself look white.
So let me put you outta your misery
as I fulfill your girl's fantasy,
cuz I'm a true thug spitting lyrically,
like you only hope one day to be.
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