DEFENDER'S RAP

• I’m the silence in the chamber right before your final sound—Void’s the name that leaves you drowned
• PCK_Glockstarjr? Bro, you shoot blanks—I'm the paradox, the void where your aim gets found.
• You flaunt your Glock, I clock your flaws, dismantle bars like bomb squads in rhyme wars,
• I’m quantum wit, splitting atoms in your syllables, imploding every line’s core.
• I’m surgical—your verses flatline when I script mine, precision like a guillotine,
• You spit gun talk, but I’m the bullet’s silence—cold, unseen, and serpentine.
• You’re starstruck, lost in my event horizon—every punchline bends your spine,
• I write with black holes in ink, your galaxy shrinks the moment our stars align.
• Void’s vocabulary’s volcanic—every eruption scorches your false bravado,
• You claim you fire heat, but I’m geothermal—deep-rooted inferno you can’t follow.
• My metaphors spiral like galaxies—your syntax collapses like neutron dreams,
• You rap “street,” I rap stratosphere—you’re asphalt cracked, I’m laser beams.
• Your “Glockstar” glimmers? I eclipse it—your shine’s a flicker, mine’s perpetual dark,
• You’re playing checkers with triggers, I’m chess with chaos—kings fall where I mark.
• So bow down, PCK, your clips click empty—while Void reloads with infinite art.