2 For 1 (Diss)

“Yo, Zack? Yeah, this Spotify hotline. We checked your stream count, bruh, That ain’t rap, that’s just background hum with five pity claps.” (click) Tag my phone, soundin’ desperate Fifty likes mine, yours anorexic Math don’t lie, no need to test it, League above, no guest list. Say you cookin’? Stove top missin’, George Foreman brain, no grill, just drippin’. You “pray” on a track? Cute mission, But your pen so frail, each bar needs a help in’ hand of fixin’. Better believe it, ChozeN spit cleaner, Sharper than Zack, that’s a feature. But cleaner or meaner, both meetin’ the Reaper, Double homicide, sneakers Both names stain, bleachers, Cheap fans, fake creatures. You admit he’s better, loser by meters, But I clown y’all both in my lyrical theater, Man you said I had one impressive song? That’s still one more Than your whole sad catalog, and the crowd know the score. Thanks for singin’ along, but when my records spin, they vibe, they nod, While your tracks hit ears like alarms, they just pray to God, “Turn it off.” You mockin’ my likes? That’s career suicide. You dressed up as me ‘cause applause won’t land on your side. You roleplay my success, but your disses way too soft, It’s like tryin’ my sneakers on when they three sizes off. Best friend a shoelace? That’s my dawg, no doubt. At least he tied tight, not hangin’ like your clout. You dissed my boy? He just laughed, and exhaled clouds, Now you trendin’ as a meme in the group chat loud. That intro mockin’ me? You sound like me too Roleplayin’ my stats, closest you’ve ever grew. Fifty likes in an hour, five pity for you, That’s a funeral march with nobody in view. Tap dance weak on a rented beat Side glide circles, ain’t catchin’ me Your “dogs from the pound”? Imaginary pets, While my dogs bark real, verified checks. Zack, you right, GodzChozeN spit cleaner than you, But best in the kiddie pool don’t mean you deep too. But wait, we don’t know if that’s true, Cuz Chozen is a fake copy paste fool. Your style, simple, his? Busted like a pimple who’s got more gay bars than San Francisco I’m ocean laps, you puddles with floaties deflated, Your bars Sunday sermons, my shots serrated. Both y’all argue while I laugh in my tone, You battle like middle school, I rap full grown. Two names in my sights, one stone I throw, And the scoreboard still fifty likes to your five sad phones. You two claimin’ you winnin’ cuz that’s the only way for you both to cope. But the truth just spoke. You both lie, numbers don’t. I’m a butcher with cleavers, you a butter knife threat, Switch gears nine times, you still stuck in one step. Flex with a duet that collapses in debt, I fold two for one like a clearance cassette. Every “peace” line trash, every “burn” line mild, Zack a rerun nobody watch, ChozeN bedtime child. Brag on the mic? Parody file. Fans click “next” while I stack my pile. Two for one burial GodzChozeN slightly better, but Zack still terrible Five lil’ likes, that’s your miracle Fifty on mine while I bury himmmm… “Yeah, Zack, Spotify support again… Your diss file reclassified, Comedy & Spoken Word. Please hang up and try battlin’ again.” (click!)