Killshot

I see you flexin’ like you’re built to last,

But your whole vibe’s expired—like milk from the past.

You speak so slow, I thought you were buffering,

Nah, just your brain lagging—system’s under surveillance.

 

You claim you’re elite, but your flex is a loan,

That jacket’s rented, and so’s your phone.

Your confidence? A filter—smooths out the flaws,

Without it, you’re just a sad man in flawed laws.

 

You’re like a sequel nobody asked to see,

“Part 2: Still Not Relevant”—on Netflix, it’s free.

I drop one bar and your whole squad unfollows,

My silence gets more respect than your whole chorus.

 

You practice in mirrors, but still can’t reflect,

Your thoughts are recycled—like Google’s cache, no effect.

I’m the upgrade you can’t afford, no download,

While you’re stuck in 2012—still rockin’ that frown.

 

You’re not a king, just a pawn with a crown,

Tryna checkmate me? Bitch, I’m the whole damn board.

Your rhymes are donated—charity case,

I spit truth so cold, it leaves frostbite on your face.

 

So take your L with grace, don’t start cryin’,

\You lost to a legend—just add me to your biography.

I don’t need to shout, I don’t need to chase,

I win with a whisper—you died with no face.