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Poetic T Jun 2020
You weren't vertical with your rhyme,
na brov you weren't a stand alone dime.
Throwing it in the air and landing face down,
  you now horizontal laughable like a clown.

But we ain't here to watch you blow up,
more like deflate, claiming this was a set up.
Tripping over your words like a stuttering
      F.. ***… k you... and there's ya muttering...

No one follows you, more like your wife walking
out on the embarrassment, **** blocking
you as she got an itch that wasn't seven years,
more like size matters and yours were in arrears.

Look I don't want to put you down, I want to hit
you so hard you feel it in the next life. Llease quit
cos you haven't got what it takes to spit lyrics
you have dry mouth, your words are you own critics.

— The End —