[sral]

You’re the worst bitches to do this, so to diss us is foolish
it’s harder to imagine you thinking you’re proven than it is to picture me losing.
Noone listens to you, we envisioned the blueprints, whilst snatching your moment
We have you on notice
Mans braggadocious, in high standing
You captained your own ship but you're standing on the titanic
When we show you these hands it isn't sign language
Die faggots, if you’re looking for clout… he’s Icelandic
We bypassed ‘em eons ago, now we’re time travelling
Heard you were nice back in your day… with polite manners
Now you guys average, must of went blind after your site vanished.

I’m immaculate when I’m penning rhymes, you lack the skill to conceptualise
I was practicing how to Wrecka Mike before Adolf Spitler was Genocide.
I’ll embarrass him for the second time, on the battle tip better recognise
I have more wins than you get combined if you add your shit up together guys.
You’re the wackest bitches to ever write, what’s a past event to the present times
actual living legend rhyming patterns in his Baron Mynd

Bitching is your battle cry,
Now the battle lines are being breached
Our footprints in the sands of time are left drying at the scene
We've come to your border, walking on water
Smoothly channelled by with writing as timeless as it seems
We'll fight you on the beaches and the country which you rep
climbed higher than you’ve reached, your times coming to an end
were wounded animals, a cut above the rest!
And your writing is beneath us
You don’t know what you're up against once those hands are dealt
Your every verse is a ask for help,
Minds imprisoned inside a padded cell
Baron Mynd and MMLP, at the helm
Summoned up like a magic spell
So Battling us, the levels are astronomical
this is some catastrophic foolery
at the cost of student fees
these man will not be schooling me,
we have you boxed in,
scatter plotted to a tee
creating timeless backdrops as The Land of Oz in movie scenes
Pen is gripped with the hand of God,
like a Maradona shooting spree
gaining the upper hand, the end of your reign has now come to pass
for you, raps not what it used to be
we stand aloft in unity
already planned and plot your eulogy, with a grand farewell
Going tit for tat with Vince McMahon
You’re in the land of opportunity, yet you have No Chance in Hell

This back and forths a joke to me, your pasts are fraught with nobodies,
back when y’all were posting keystyles and acting awkward socially.
I ran the boards from overseas, text battle forums quoting me
champing all the dopest leagues and their tourneys boastfully.
Known to be above the rest while notably you unimpressed
I stole your scheme and done it better to show that we’re the fucking best.
You’re lower tier, I’m upper echelon, your whole careers you’ve sucked at text
you’re only here because it’s dead with no one real to run against.