Mongolian Beef (Burner Boy Diss)

70’s, Raw, minimal, UK rock, lo-fi, British post rock, dark, heavy, loud, art rock, experimental rock, proto-punk, psychedelic rock, and avant-pop

V4.5

You a burner, huh? (aww, weak!)
Fake ass earner, huh? (tsk, cheap!)
One name, two masks, that’s cowardly creep. (coward!)
I’m That’s Nice, same name, same face, no cheat. (what’s up!)

Boy you creep in the back like a mall cop lurkin’, nervous on the shift while your knees keep jerkin’,
Scared to step front so the burner account workin’, postin’ little jabs while your ego still hurtin’.
That’s like wearin’ a wig to your birthday bash, tryin’ to hide that bald spot still in the back,
Blow the candles, wish for a pair of balls, but you wake up broke and they’re still small.

You flex “3k follows,” yeah numbers look cute, but your main account dusty, smellin’  like an old boot,
I don’t need YouTube or a Patreon check, only  Suno beats I bless, still I earn respect.
Every line you type just filler, no bite, I spit live rounds while you hump your pillow at night,
One man, one name, one technician, That’s Nice, puttin’ all your burner dreams straight under the mortician knife.
You genre hop weird like a desperate clown,
I stay steady with the flow, keep it lockin’ down.
You switchin’ every mask like a masquerade plan,
I’m roastin’ your disguise like the grease poppin’ out of your fryin’ pan.

Who’s fake? (him!)
Who’s soft? (him!)
Two accounts, one coward, still lost. (lost!)
I’m one name strong, That’s Nice, big boss. (boss!)

You rap like a dude who lost an arm wrestle match to his niece, then cried for a week on a beat ‘bout peace,
Your burner account like Spanx for a saggin’ ego, tryna hold the seams while you still sound weak though.
Your main got throat-singin’ chants like a monk takin’ a dump on a hill, but your rap account frail, nothin’ special, no skill.
I laugh at your burner ‘cause it’s desperate and cheap, you couldn’t body me in twenty centuries deep.
I don’t chase clout, clout follows me like a Minotaur in a maze when the crowd all scream,
You still box comments in your wettest dream, I’m a one name throne with a ruthless gleam.
You play Scooby Doo villain, pull the mask, same face, same shame, weak gimmick on the chase,
I stay true with the same name, no disguise in the place. I’ll ground and pound this waste of space and make Mongolian Beef out of his face.

[Hook – Taunting Chant]
“Boo this man!” (boo!)
“Hide again!” (tsk!)
Copy-paste flows all bland. (plain!)
My account wins, yours ends on demand. (dead!)

This man too shook to test the water, knows he’s just lamb led straight to the slaughter,
Thinkin’ he’s a masked marauder, nah, just a weak lil’ fraud gettin’ erased from the roster.
You pant while you climb three stairs in a row, call yourself warrior, fate don’t show.
Only fight you won was a fork versus plate when you ate that pork and the gravy slow.
That’s Nice the name, same face, no lie,
You drop burner lines ‘cause you scared to try.
I cut wackness quick after two weak rounds,
But you stalkin’ my tracks just to click “like” now.
Numbers don’t crown you, statistics don’t reign,
You cosplay in your bitches gown, underwear stained.
You the sequel nobody ordered, straight Netflix flop,
You should stick to rock, country, pop or goth,  forget about  hip-hop. (Ha ha)

Burner boy! (weak!)
Scared to speak! (coward!)
Two-face rapper with them dollar-store beats. (cheap!)
That’s Nice stays Suno, still can’t compete. (never!)

You act like Boss Hog chasin’ me, General Lee, but I burn like Jeff Ross with a mic up both sleeves.
Your Daisy Dukes too tight, ass bustin’ the seams, beggin’ for attention so from my nuts you swing. (Weeee!)
You soundin’ depressed, go outside and get some light. Go take a hike, go fly a kite, go ride a bike.
Go see Doctor Phil, lay your problems to rest.
Your beard patchy gray like a Brillo pad  stressed, my lines sharp like meat hooks carved in your flesh.

You ain’t no villain, just background chatter,
I’m the voice that destroys, makin’ your weak bones shatter.
Face the fact, your punchlines dry and a drag like waiting for the satellite delay lag.
Your metaphors worn, like your old man tits floppin’ about,
Tryna act loud but I’ll put you in time out with soap in your mouth as you whimper and pout.
You should try a different route.

One name strong! (yeah!)
One lane long! (facts!)
That’s Nice, no gimmicks, still droppin’ them bombs! (boom!)
Got your fans singin’ along.

4286/7500

You a burner, huh? (aww, weak!) Fake ass earner, huh? (tsk, cheap!) One name, two masks, that’s cowardly creep. (coward!) I’m That’s Nice, same name, same face, no cheat. (what’s up!) Boy you creep in the back like a mall cop lurkin’, nervous on the shift while your knees keep jerkin’, Scared to step front so the burner account workin’, postin’ little jabs while your ego still hurtin’. That’s like wearin’ a wig to your birthday bash, tryin’ to hide that bald spot still in the back, Blow the candles, wish for a pair of balls, but you wake up broke and they’re still small. You flex “3k follows,” yeah numbers look cute, but your main account dusty, smellin’ like an old boot, I don’t need YouTube or a Patreon check, only Suno beats I bless, still I earn respect. Every line you type just filler, no bite, I spit live rounds while you hump your pillow at night, One man, one name, one technician, That’s Nice, puttin’ all your burner dreams straight under the mortician knife. You genre hop weird like a desperate clown, I stay steady with the flow, keep it lockin’ down. You switchin’ every mask like a masquerade plan, I’m roastin’ your disguise like the grease poppin’ out of your fryin’ pan. Who’s fake? (him!) Who’s soft? (him!) Two accounts, one coward, still lost. (lost!) I’m one name strong, That’s Nice, big boss. (boss!) You rap like a dude who lost an arm wrestle match to his niece, then cried for a week on a beat ‘bout peace, Your burner account like Spanx for a saggin’ ego, tryna hold the seams while you still sound weak though. Your main got throat-singin’ chants like a monk takin’ a dump on a hill, but your rap account frail, nothin’ special, no skill. I laugh at your burner ‘cause it’s desperate and cheap, you couldn’t body me in twenty centuries deep. I don’t chase clout, clout follows me like a Minotaur in a maze when the crowd all scream, You still box comments in your wettest dream, I’m a one name throne with a ruthless gleam. You play Scooby Doo villain, pull the mask, same face, same shame, weak gimmick on the chase, I stay true with the same name, no disguise in the place. I’ll ground and pound this waste of space and make Mongolian Beef out of his face. [Hook – Taunting Chant] “Boo this man!” (boo!) “Hide again!” (tsk!) Copy-paste flows all bland. (plain!) My account wins, yours ends on demand. (dead!) This man too shook to test the water, knows he’s just lamb led straight to the slaughter, Thinkin’ he’s a masked marauder, nah, just a weak lil’ fraud gettin’ erased from the roster. You pant while you climb three stairs in a row, call yourself warrior, fate don’t show. Only fight you won was a fork versus plate when you ate that pork and the gravy slow. That’s Nice the name, same face, no lie, You drop burner lines ‘cause you scared to try. I cut wackness quick after two weak rounds, But you stalkin’ my tracks just to click “like” now. Numbers don’t crown you, statistics don’t reign, You cosplay in your bitches gown, underwear stained. You the sequel nobody ordered, straight Netflix flop, You should stick to rock, country, pop or goth, forget about hip-hop. (Ha ha) Burner boy! (weak!) Scared to speak! (coward!) Two-face rapper with them dollar-store beats. (cheap!) That’s Nice stays Suno, still can’t compete. (never!) You act like Boss Hog chasin’ me, General Lee, but I burn like Jeff Ross with a mic up both sleeves. Your Daisy Dukes too tight, ass bustin’ the seams, beggin’ for attention so from my nuts you swing. (Weeee!) You soundin’ depressed, go outside and get some light. Go take a hike, go fly a kite, go ride a bike. Go see Doctor Phil, lay your problems to rest. Your beard patchy gray like a Brillo pad stressed, my lines sharp like meat hooks carved in your flesh. You ain’t no villain, just background chatter, I’m the voice that destroys, makin’ your weak bones shatter. Face the fact, your punchlines dry and a drag like waiting for the satellite delay lag. Your metaphors worn, like your old man tits floppin’ about, Tryna act loud but I’ll put you in time out with soap in your mouth as you whimper and pout. You should try a different route. One name strong! (yeah!) One lane long! (facts!) That’s Nice, no gimmicks, still droppin’ them bombs! (boom!) Got your fans singin’ along.

0/500