GodzChozeN? Nah🤣 (Diss) (EXPLICIT LYRICS)

Soulful, neo funk, neo soul, futuristic RnB Grooves, ratchet romance, Chicago mumble rap, Atlanta mumble rap, west coast mumble rap, 808’s, modern rap, sarcastic, taunting, bouncy bass, street grime, autotune

V4.5+

“Who’s that bum? (him!)
Who’s that clown? (him!)
Whole damn name? (grim!)
Career six feet in the ground. Amen!”

You typin’ all night for a verse with one like,
That’s weaker than your wrists when you grippin’ dicks real tight.
Talkin’ “Aztec warrior,” bro, please quit,
You shaped like a bag of busted potato chips.

Your “dedication” was masturbation, plain and clear,
You rap for bots, I rap for peers,
But even the bots steer clear cuz you weird.
You a muffin top sportin’ skinny jeans, your only mic drop is when your buttons pop.
If you had not committed great sins…”  Bro, that’s your big openin’?
Sound like a Walmart greeter tryin’ to cosplay Mongolian.
You quote Genghis Khan, I quote your mom moanin’ in,
While your verse fall apart like a broke-ass accordion.
You sayin’ micro dick? Your mom told ya?
You’re a slow fella,
Only wood you swing is minigolf putters at Coachella.
And that “autistic down syndrome child” line? Weak heat, 
At least they show talent, you just copy paste off Beat Street.

You rhyme split, clip, equipped, that’s not bars, that’s a stutter, bitch,
Whole catalog floppin’ like your stepdad’s buttered grits.
Golf metaphors? Hole in one, birdie, layup, 
Pick a sport, short bus, before I lump your face up. Swollen you up till you look like the marshmallow man from Stay Puft till you combust into fluff.
Talkin’ golf bars? You don’t swing clubs,
You swing KFC buckets, ten-piece tubs.
You spit “slice guts,” but can’t slice steak,
You pant walking stairs, talkin’ “warrior fate.”

“Corny! (boo!)
Fake! (fraud!)
Whole damn gimmick? (flawed!)
This weak little rapper gettin’ clapped by God!”

Your “hoe let you wiggle”? She said you came quick,
Then asked for my number, ‘cause you don’t fit.
Jeannie bars? You puffin’ dust,
Your magic lamp’s just pocket crust.
You think you’re invincible, bitch, you invisible, you lean in’ on a response like Micheal Jackson in Smooth Criminal but your punchline are minimal.
You talk “knife,” but you choke on butter,
The only slice you know is cake from mother,
Who moonlights as a fluffer.
Callin’ me “son”? Bitch, this ain’t porn,
I’ll fuck your flow up worse than your pussy torn.

“Lazy! (trash!)
Weak! (nah!)
Whole damn verse sound copy-paste blah!”

Let’s roast your beard, roast your cam, roast your mic,
Roast your views that don’t show likes.
Roast your teeth, roast your jeans, roast your room, roast your views,
No need for a 3 peat, make this fool retreat back to his mommy’s womb.
Talkin’ “autistic?” That’s a topic you should avoid.
Just projection, your head misshaped like a mongoloid.
You talkin’ shit with hemorrhoid ashy lips,
You usin’ Preparation H for chapstick.
You beg for beef then choke on gristle,
I cut your verse short with a ballistic missile.

“Cooked! (done!)
Dead! (flat!)
Stick a toe tag right on that rap!”

I’m a bear trap primed in the dirt, step wrong and it’s curtains,
Burstin’, I turn a verse into hearses, words cuttin’ deeper than surgeons.
The only thing you’re beatin’ is your meat like Pee Wee Herman.
I’m a whirlwind, certain to burn skin, lurchin’ like war drums thunderin’,
Cut him in dozens till you’re nothin’,  this ain’t rap, this punishment.
I’m the avalanche breakin’ the peak off the summit,
You a firecracker fizzle in a puddle, low budget.
I’m the juggernaut rushin’, concussin’, percussion eruptin’,
Your stutter gets crushed in discussion, no substance, you bluffin’.
Arms missin’ cuz I ripped them off to give you a double fistin’
You think you dissin’ shots keep missin’ cuz you forgot you got nerf gun clips in.
Bodies I stack ‘em in rows like I’m playin’ Tetris,
You droppin’ letters like dentures from old men breathless.
I’m a plague in the flesh, I infest when I step in,
I’m the heaven sent of pressure, collector of debts,
Every line that I press is stress test to your chest.
I’m poison blunt smoke choking throats, with slow-mo quotes,
I’m a cobra with a motive, strike cold till you’re pushin’ up four leaf clovers.
Push you off the Cliffs Of Dover, hittin’ your face harder than your mom unleashing’ her over the shoulder boulder holder.
You a rodent in a coat with a squeak in your closure.

I’m the guillotine gleam when it swinggin’ at the neck,
You the school bell ring that the kids all forget.
You the plastic rain jacket gettin’ put in check.
I’m a freight train ringin’ when it rips through town,
You a scooter with a flat tire squeakin’ around.
I’m apocalypse hieroglyph carved into a mountain,
You a knock knock joke written in pencil on a drinking fountain.
I’m a royalty, Viscount in a furnace of rage,
While you identify confused like Elliot Page.

4609/7500

“Who’s that bum? (him!) Who’s that clown? (him!) Whole damn name? (grim!) Career six feet in the ground. Amen!” You typin’ all night for a verse with one like, That’s weaker than your wrists when you grippin’ dicks real tight. Talkin’ “Aztec warrior,” bro, please quit, You shaped like a bag of busted potato chips. Your “dedication” was masturbation, plain and clear, You rap for bots, I rap for peers, But even the bots steer clear cuz you weird. You a muffin top sportin’ skinny jeans, your only mic drop is when your buttons pop. If you had not committed great sins…” Bro, that’s your big openin’? Sound like a Walmart greeter tryin’ to cosplay Mongolian. You quote Genghis Khan, I quote your mom moanin’ in, While your verse fall apart like a broke-ass accordion. You sayin’ micro dick? Your mom told ya? You’re a slow fella, Only wood you swing is minigolf putters at Coachella. And that “autistic down syndrome child” line? Weak heat, At least they show talent, you just copy paste off Beat Street. You rhyme split, clip, equipped, that’s not bars, that’s a stutter, bitch, Whole catalog floppin’ like your stepdad’s buttered grits. Golf metaphors? Hole in one, birdie, layup, Pick a sport, short bus, before I lump your face up. Swollen you up till you look like the marshmallow man from Stay Puft till you combust into fluff. Talkin’ golf bars? You don’t swing clubs, You swing KFC buckets, ten-piece tubs. You spit “slice guts,” but can’t slice steak, You pant walking stairs, talkin’ “warrior fate.” “Corny! (boo!) Fake! (fraud!) Whole damn gimmick? (flawed!) This weak little rapper gettin’ clapped by God!” Your “hoe let you wiggle”? She said you came quick, Then asked for my number, ‘cause you don’t fit. Jeannie bars? You puffin’ dust, Your magic lamp’s just pocket crust. You think you’re invincible, bitch, you invisible, you lean in’ on a response like Micheal Jackson in Smooth Criminal but your punchline are minimal. You talk “knife,” but you choke on butter, The only slice you know is cake from mother, Who moonlights as a fluffer. Callin’ me “son”? Bitch, this ain’t porn, I’ll fuck your flow up worse than your pussy torn. “Lazy! (trash!) Weak! (nah!) Whole damn verse sound copy-paste blah!” Let’s roast your beard, roast your cam, roast your mic, Roast your views that don’t show likes. Roast your teeth, roast your jeans, roast your room, roast your views, No need for a 3 peat, make this fool retreat back to his mommy’s womb. Talkin’ “autistic?” That’s a topic you should avoid. Just projection, your head misshaped like a mongoloid. You talkin’ shit with hemorrhoid ashy lips, You usin’ Preparation H for chapstick. You beg for beef then choke on gristle, I cut your verse short with a ballistic missile. “Cooked! (done!) Dead! (flat!) Stick a toe tag right on that rap!” I’m a bear trap primed in the dirt, step wrong and it’s curtains, Burstin’, I turn a verse into hearses, words cuttin’ deeper than surgeons. The only thing you’re beatin’ is your meat like Pee Wee Herman. I’m a whirlwind, certain to burn skin, lurchin’ like war drums thunderin’, Cut him in dozens till you’re nothin’, this ain’t rap, this punishment. I’m the avalanche breakin’ the peak off the summit, You a firecracker fizzle in a puddle, low budget. I’m the juggernaut rushin’, concussin’, percussion eruptin’, Your stutter gets crushed in discussion, no substance, you bluffin’. Arms missin’ cuz I ripped them off to give you a double fistin’ You think you dissin’ shots keep missin’ cuz you forgot you got nerf gun clips in. Bodies I stack ‘em in rows like I’m playin’ Tetris, You droppin’ letters like dentures from old men breathless. I’m a plague in the flesh, I infest when I step in, I’m the heaven sent of pressure, collector of debts, Every line that I press is stress test to your chest. I’m poison blunt smoke choking throats, with slow-mo quotes, I’m a cobra with a motive, strike cold till you’re pushin’ up four leaf clovers. Push you off the Cliffs Of Dover, hittin’ your face harder than your mom unleashing’ her over the shoulder boulder holder. You a rodent in a coat with a squeak in your closure. I’m the guillotine gleam when it swinggin’ at the neck, You the school bell ring that the kids all forget. You the plastic rain jacket gettin’ put in check. I’m a freight train ringin’ when it rips through town, You a scooter with a flat tire squeakin’ around. I’m apocalypse hieroglyph carved into a mountain, You a knock knock joke written in pencil on a drinking fountain. I’m a royalty, Viscount in a furnace of rage, While you identify confused like Elliot Page.

0/500