Roast Rap
• Written by EchoedKiwi
Yo, listen up, here comes the heat,
I'm serving up roasts, no need for a seat.
Your rhymes are weak, like overcooked spaghetti,
I'll roast you so hard, you'll need a medley.
Your flow's so basic, it's like tap water,
I'm spitting fire, you're just a toddler.
Your bars are frozen, stuck in the ice age,
I'm the sun, melting your weak-ass rage.
Your style's outdated, like a flip phone,
I'm the iPhone 13, you're a dial tone.
Your punchlines? Nah, they're more like love taps,
I'm swinging sledgehammers, breaking your synapse.
You claim to be a king, but you're a pawn,
I'm the whole chessboard, your moves are gone.
Your crew? They're like backup dancers,
I'm the main act, stealing all the stanzas.
Your swagger's borrowed, like a library book,
I'm the author, writing the hooks.
Your career's a flatline, mine's a rollercoaster,
I'll roast you so hard, you'll need a toaster.
So step back, son, and take a seat,
I'm the roast master, you're just dead meat.
Your bars are like tofu, bland and tasteless,
I'm the spice, the flavour, the illest playlist.
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About the Artist
EchoedKiwi
Member since March 12 2024