Redacted Rap

Step up to the mic, but your tongue is tied,

You’re a ghostwriter’s victim with nowhere to hide.

You thought you had bars? Man, your whole life's a glitch,

I’ll bury your career in a six-foot ditch.

You talk about smoke, but you’re puffing on air,

Sitting backstage just fixing your hair.

Look at your face, you look utterly drained,

A walking disaster, completely untrained.

Your rhymes should get retracted, yeah, spin that back,

Every single verse is a heart attack

Not 'cause you're hard, but you’re choking on stage,

Tearing out pages in absolute rage!

You’re biting my style, yeah you’re stealing the flow,

I’m cutting your mic and I’m turning you low.

You thought you were heavy, but you're light as a feather,

The weatherman said you ain't weathering the weather