[Intro] [Professor — spoken, calm] Attendance was already taken. Let’s correct the record. [SmirkzZ — spoken, laughing] “No rebuttals”? Then what was that, bro—a permission slip? [Slim — shouted] SLIM KRAZEE! Let’s go! [Verse 1: Slim] “No rebuttals”—that’s your first rule? Then wrote three verses? Who’s breaking whose rules? “Second-born”—you said it, I didn’t need to, Whole track about me, but I’m beneath you? “Please hold your questions”—you coached the crowd, Put applause in the track, still couldn’t sound loud. Brought Nardwuar clips for your show-and-tell, Man interviewed legends—you interviewed yourself. Called it a body? Then show me the scene, All I heard was my name doing work for your stream. You said “class dismissed” like the battle was finished— That ain’t a punchline. That’s a time limit. [Hook: SmirkzZ] Talk that talk—let the speakers work, Bass hit hard, but the words need work. “Hands up high”—had to cue that too? “No rebuttals”—then what the fuck did you do? Talk that talk—let the speakers work, Whole lotta drop for a little bit of dirt. Yelled “class dismissed,” tried to kill that bell— Can’t end the round just by ending your set. [Verse 2: SmirkzZ] Four names deep and you still picked wrong, Had to take our attendance to get through your song. Seven personas? You counted ’em twice, Built a whole cast just to argue with mine. Keep the lecture—nah, keep the projector, My highlights doing the work of your lecturer. Said you took the room? You were watching the door, Can’t claim the whole building from a spot on the floor. I know you off-record—that’s bad for the act, You can sell them the character; I know the facts. All that menace, that growl, that theatrical tone— I’ve heard Mom say your full name. Leave the gangster alone. You didn’t change the groove, you just changed your seat, Still watching my moves while you rap over beats. Slim, let him breathe—he’s been working all night Trying to turn “I heard your song” into “I ended your life.” [Hook: SmirkzZ] Talk that talk—let the speakers work, Bass hit hard, but the words need work. “Hands up high”—had to cue that too? “No rebuttals”—then what the fuck did you do? [Break] [Professor — spoken, irritated] Enough. “No rebuttals,” you said. And yet you submitted one for review. For someone so concerned with— [Door slam. Music cuts.] [The Dean — deep, slow, controlled] Professor. I’ll take it from here. [Pause] [transition] [time-stretched Instrumental ] [The Dean — [time warped , measured rap] I heard the record. That’s why I came downstairs. Put “warning” in the intro—left the warning there. Had the sax doing overtime, the drop doing chores, Even your ad-libs sounded unsure. Shot at the family, then hid in the mix, Put a rule against replies at the front of your diss. You don’t get to throw punches and then call a truce, Or declare yourself the winner while you’re reading the rules. Slim checked the claims. SmirkzZ handled the jokes. I checked “no rebuttals” against what you wrote. Three verses of evidence, signed in your voice— You made our whole case. That was your choice. Wanted the last word? Should’ve made it count. You can’t shout “class dismissed” while your hand’s still out. You don’t run this room. You just booked the slot. And the bell doesn’t ring because you tell it to stop. [Build stops. Complete silence.] [The Dean — spoken, cold] You didn’t make a diss track. You filed a complaint. [Pause] Denied. [Final Drop: full sub, chopped “DENIED,” no new lyrics]
