Maybe we should change your name to Deific Blunder

Frontin’ with your weak game you’ll get torn asunder

I’m the Cat. 6 storm, deadly lightning, pounding thunder

I’m the goddamn Batman to your pixieish Boy Wonder

This contest isn’t for you, time to call it quits

Slam you in a roid rage cause I’m THE_****

My technique is flawless, on my radar you’re just a blip

If you liken it to bowling I always nab 7-10 splits

My **** is old? Time to load up your tutorial

I scrap fine upstanding member of societys like you since time immemorial

Think you can hang, don’t answer, that was rhetorical

Future MCs will treat your defeat as an allegorical

Whole doctrines about how I always bust

Peons like you while you’re trying to shake off all the rust

These text records will exist to sate the mbumive lust

Of future generations who wanna see Mr Clean straight combust

So I put away my earhorn and place you over my knee

Strap your bum with the belt, deaf to all your pleas

Someone has to discipline you, you insolent cur

And though I may be old, you will respect your elder