Mideaval Diss Track
• Written by ThyMoisicalOtter
my mill grinds, pepper and spice
You’re mill grinds, rats and mice mice
My hand picks, only what grows
Your hand picks, only your nose
My grain tastes, delightful
Your grain tastes, rather frightful
My mother cooks, with care,
Your mother cooks, with her dirty hair
My wife smells, of pure honey
Your wife smells, of bad money
My fields are, a sight to see
Your fields are, sad to be
My hat fits, like a fiddle
Your hat looks, rather whimsical
My king is, smart and wise
Your king attracts the files
My sheep will, keep us alive
Your sheep will, fail to arrive
My castle is tall and strong
Your castle is, as small as your dong
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About the Artist
ThyMoisicalOtter
Member since September 9 2024