Can’t Rap Kid [REMASTERED]

[retro Instrumental intro] [Spoken word Narrator (deep voice)] “We can rebuild him. He can run smoother… Spit faster… Burn several rappers with a single verse. He’s not a man… he’s a mildly confused A.I.-boosted lyricist… We call him… The Can’t-Rap Kid.” [cue dramatic synth beat drop] [Verse 1] I can’t rap, I can barely speak in time, But I still know how to string together a rhyme Probably older than your dad, and whiter than paper, I’ll still rhyme circles around you, have you left in my vapors. [Verse 2] You couldn’t beat this tech if your name was John Connor, That’s you all sweatin’ like you’re sitting in a sauna I guess it pays off to be a technology nerd, now I spit bars without saying a damn word (ha ha) [Hook] I can’t rap, but here’s a rap that I built Sorry that you’re salty but I feel no guilt. I have that creativity that you lack And broke your whole set with a budget app [Verse 3] I chase syntax perfection with a whisper of spite, Overshadowing your presence like a firmware overwright With punchlines so dry, they make your lips chapped. Your mixtape’s all shit and just slipped through the cracks. [Verse 4] Well, here you go again, lurkin’ in the comments Crying on your keyboard with the same old word vomit Instead of writing your next track, you’re trollin’ like a clown I’m sure just a little bit more bitching will take A.I. down [Verse 4] No ghostwriters here, just a ghost in the shell, got bars that burn worse than the bowels of hell No studio setup, just a phone and a dream, And an A.I. vocalist in my digital team. [Verse 5] You post thirst traps, I draw verse maps, While you fumbled on beats, I dropped nerd raps. I ain’t that hard, just a dad-joke assassin, Still cookin’ up rhymes as if this was my passion [Verse 6] I can’t dance, can’t sing, can’t flow with finesse, But I can still give your EP a cardiac arrest. You’re auto-tuned, saying my tech is unfair - As if the barrier- to-entry wasn’t already there [Verse 7] No kicks, no grills, no flexin’ in gold, Just a heated verse with delivery that’s cold. You’re in the Walmart parking lot, beggin’ folks for a listen, Pushin’ your mixtapes like it’s multi-level commission. [Hook] I can’t rap, but I rap better than you, I ain’t got no clout, ain’t got no crew,. With a phone for a mic and a thrift store hat, I’m the glitch in the game, and I’m good with that. [Verse 8 ] They said “stick to your day job” well, I wrote this on break, You got your nose to the grindstone, this was a piece of cake. Yeah, be mad at the tech, this was a stroll in the park Guess any asshole can be a budget Tony Stark. Just some shit-post rapping like, “Who is this guy?” Another online clown on his neighbor’s Wi-Fi. Tech keeps evolving, what could possibly go wrong? Now if you’ll excuse me new Black Mirror’s on… [Outro – Narrator Returns, Dramatic Voice] Narrator: “He was never supposed to rap. No rhythm… no training… Just a dream… And a refurbished laptop.” [outro] [end]