How you doin'? Must be rough, scraping the bottom of the barrel for originality. Your rhymes are weaker than your wifi signal, constantly dropping the beat. I'm not even trying, and I'm still outshining your lackluster flow. You're the definition of a one-hit wonder, and that hit was a total accident. Your stage presence is about as electrifying as a damp sponge. I'm here to remind you why you're a footnote in the history of rap, a forgotten verse in a mediocre song. You're so predictable, I could write your next diss before you even think of it. Your career's a slow burn, and it's about to fizzle out completely. Stick to karaoke night, pal, because this battle's already over. You're the reason they invented autotune, and even that can't save you. Your rhymes are so cliché, they're practically fossilized. I'm not dissing you, I'm just stating facts. You're the definition of average, and average is just a fancy word for "terrible." Your flow is smoother than a freshly paved road to nowhere. I'm not impressed. In fact, I'm utterly unimpressed. You're a walking, talking, rapping disappointment. And that's being kind.