Black widow - Diabolical (Traptaur/Madisynn diss)

East Coast hip hop, boom bap, battle rap

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V4.5+

[Intro – Whisper flow, noir decree]  
Why be petty… when I can be diabolical?  
I don’t clap back — I drag bodies into hell. (ha)  
This ain’t a diss… it’s an execution. (Traptaur)

[Verse 1 – Multisyllabic rhyme schemes, animated delivery, sarcastic mimicry]  
You counting subs like pennies in a wishing well, (cheap)  
But queens don’t need coins just to cast a spell.  
Your buzz evaporates, like smoke in the breeze,  
I breathe once — whole crowd on their knees. (kneel)

Talk tough, but your flow stay hollow, (tsk)  
Claim “royal blood,” but you sip what I swallow.  
Dragged Madisynn in, thought she’d lift your name,  
Now you kissing on a thorn just to feel acclaim. (tragic)

[Hook – Sarcastic chant, mocking cadence]  
(Slice it, dice it, fry it in the pan,) (ha)  
Cactus on a plate — serve your whole damn brand. (gone)  
(Season with the lime, bleed juice in the pot,)  
Y’all clout-cooked clowns gettin’ served while hot. (mmm)

(Flip it, whip it, stir it ‘til it burns,) (burn)  
This is how a queen makes a jester turn. (turn)  
(Add a little pain, spice it with defeat,)  
I cooked your careers, now the court gon’ eat. (eat up)

[Verse 2 – Metaphorical bounce cadence, layered imagery, sly venom]  
She swore she only sat with royals, stayed pure,  
Now she’s dining on thorns just to look secure. (ha)  
Two knives in the sand, now you share the sheath,  
That’s pain dressed as passion, that’s venom beneath.

Cactus as comfort? No, that’s punishment worn,  
Eggplant painted green — every touch is torn. (ouch)  
Y’all called each other poison, now you toast with glass,  
That’s not a collab — that’s snakes en masse. (ssss)

[Hook – Sarcastic chant, mocking cadence]  
(Slice it, dice it, fry it in the pan,) (sizzle)  
Cactus on a plate — serve your whole damn brand. (devoured)  
(Season with the lime, bleed juice in the pot,)  
Y’all clout-cooked clowns gettin’ served while hot. (eat up)

[Verse 3 – Dominant punch-in cadence, bar-for-bar aggression, confident sexual flex]  
They whisper of thrones — but I sit in mine,  
I don’t chase applause, I command the line. (line up)  
I don’t need subs, I don’t rent no fame,  
I etch dynasties — y’all just chase names.

You fake power couple? Please, that’s a stunt, (please)  
Two clowns in the sheets, tryna front what you want.  
I don’t beg, I don’t bend, I don’t sign for the rent,  
I don’t fight in the circus — I burn the tent. (ash)

[Verse 4 – Bounce-to-chopper flow, rapid dismantling of gimmicks]  
“Meme lord” flex? That’s a hollow disguise,  
Memes fade quick — my name never dies.  
Static and glitch, same gimmick routine,  
But legends don’t loop — they scar the scene. (scarred)

Triplet bursts cutting — bodies collapse, (fall)  
Two hacks rehearse, clown cosplay acts. (haha)  
Culture? Nah, you’re background spam,  
I’m folklore, eternal — you’re a brandless scam. (fake)

[Hook – Sarcastic chant, mocking cadence]  
(Slice it, dice it, fry it in the pan,) (burn it down)  
Cactus on a plate — serve your whole damn brand. (gone)  
(Season with the lime, bleed juice in the pot,)  
Y’all clout-cooked clowns gettin’ served while hot. (finish it)

[Clap-Back – Aggressive, fed-up delivery]  
They called me a peasant? That’s laughable, weak. (pathetic)  
But peasants don’t silence a court when they speak.  
I don’t play monarch, I don’t play queen,  
I just kill noise — erase the scene.

Two jesters fucking, clown sex for a stream, (clowns)  
Y’all choking on the ashes of your own damn dream.  
No crowns, no thrones, no legacy,  
I’m the execution — the end of your plea.

4478/7500

[Intro – Whisper flow, noir decree] Why be petty… when I can be diabolical? I don’t clap back — I drag bodies into hell. (ha) This ain’t a diss… it’s an execution. (Traptaur) [Verse 1 – Multisyllabic rhyme schemes, animated delivery, sarcastic mimicry] You counting subs like pennies in a wishing well, (cheap) But queens don’t need coins just to cast a spell. Your buzz evaporates, like smoke in the breeze, I breathe once — whole crowd on their knees. (kneel) Talk tough, but your flow stay hollow, (tsk) Claim “royal blood,” but you sip what I swallow. Dragged Madisynn in, thought she’d lift your name, Now you kissing on a thorn just to feel acclaim. (tragic) [Hook – Sarcastic chant, mocking cadence] (Slice it, dice it, fry it in the pan,) (ha) Cactus on a plate — serve your whole damn brand. (gone) (Season with the lime, bleed juice in the pot,) Y’all clout-cooked clowns gettin’ served while hot. (mmm) (Flip it, whip it, stir it ‘til it burns,) (burn) This is how a queen makes a jester turn. (turn) (Add a little pain, spice it with defeat,) I cooked your careers, now the court gon’ eat. (eat up) [Verse 2 – Metaphorical bounce cadence, layered imagery, sly venom] She swore she only sat with royals, stayed pure, Now she’s dining on thorns just to look secure. (ha) Two knives in the sand, now you share the sheath, That’s pain dressed as passion, that’s venom beneath. Cactus as comfort? No, that’s punishment worn, Eggplant painted green — every touch is torn. (ouch) Y’all called each other poison, now you toast with glass, That’s not a collab — that’s snakes en masse. (ssss) [Hook – Sarcastic chant, mocking cadence] (Slice it, dice it, fry it in the pan,) (sizzle) Cactus on a plate — serve your whole damn brand. (devoured) (Season with the lime, bleed juice in the pot,) Y’all clout-cooked clowns gettin’ served while hot. (eat up) (Flip it, whip it, stir it ‘til it burns,) (burn) This is how a queen makes a jester turn. (turn) (Add a little pain, spice it with defeat,) I cooked your careers, now the court gon’ eat. (mmm) [Verse 3 – Dominant punch-in cadence, bar-for-bar aggression, confident sexual flex] They whisper of thrones — but I sit in mine, I don’t chase applause, I command the line. (line up) I don’t need subs, I don’t rent no fame, I etch dynasties — y’all just chase names. You fake power couple? Please, that’s a stunt, (please) Two clowns in the sheets, tryna front what you want. I don’t beg, I don’t bend, I don’t sign for the rent, I don’t fight in the circus — I burn the tent. (ash) [Hook – Sarcastic chant, mocking cadence] (Slice it, dice it, fry it in the pan,) (ha) Cactus on a plate — serve your whole damn brand. (gone) (Season with the lime, bleed juice in the pot,) Y’all clout-cooked clowns gettin’ served while hot. (mmm) (Flip it, whip it, stir it ‘til it burns,) (burn) This is how a queen makes a jester turn. (turn) (Add a little pain, spice it with defeat,) I cooked your careers, now the court gon’ eat. (eat up) [Verse 4 – Bounce-to-chopper flow, rapid dismantling of gimmicks] “Meme lord” flex? That’s a hollow disguise, Memes fade quick — my name never dies. Static and glitch, same gimmick routine, But legends don’t loop — they scar the scene. (scarred) Triplet bursts cutting — bodies collapse, (fall) Two hacks rehearse, clown cosplay acts. (haha) Culture? Nah, you’re background spam, I’m folklore, eternal — you’re a brandless scam. (fake) [Hook – Sarcastic chant, mocking cadence] (Slice it, dice it, fry it in the pan,) (burn it down) Cactus on a plate — serve your whole damn brand. (gone) (Season with the lime, bleed juice in the pot,) Y’all clout-cooked clowns gettin’ served while hot. (finish it) (Flip it, whip it, stir it ‘til it burns,) (burn) This is how a queen makes a jester turn. (turn) (Add a little pain, spice it with defeat,) I cooked your careers, now the court gon’ eat. (eat up) [Clap-Back – Aggressive, fed-up delivery] They called me a peasant? That’s laughable, weak. (pathetic) But peasants don’t silence a court when they speak. I don’t play monarch, I don’t play queen, I just kill noise — erase the scene. Two jesters fucking, clown sex for a stream, (clowns) Y’all choking on the ashes of your own damn dream. No crowns, no thrones, no legacy, I’m the execution — the end of your plea.

0/500