So I see.. we all see...
...Rap-battles is dead
The questions that have to be said, is...
Why didn't you tend to your farm?
Why didn't you ensure
Your cattle was fed?
Why didn't your hens
Lay baskets of eggs?
Your land was once arable
Now your past-ure prime
There's no reviving after
Such a sad decline
And I'm in no way your saviour
I've not come to resurrect you
I'd rather sit back, crying with laughter
And a glass of wine
At your tragic trajectory
It's a dire scene
I'll capture, your best side
With a camera
Smile, for the lense
As I laugh at your demise, and your end
"What? You must be a foe! Everyone, It doesn't sound
Like this guy is a friend"
I'm not, so should I lie and pretend?
But I'm not your actual enemy
I'm not here to hurt you
Can the dead feel pain?
Nor am I here to water your land
(That wasn't my plan)
Not that you've ever felt real rain
In your defense you still claim,
"Keystyle as a whole has decreased in numbers"
I don't think that is a factor
I didn't personally want to see you slumber
(I just wanted to steal your thunder)
And leave you numb, but...
You did it without needing my help
I've watched from afar
I've seen you with stealth
The cards that you received have been dealt
Your energy's spent
You've depleted your wealth
Is there any remedy for your health?
(Not at all)
Though time and again, you've rose from the ashes
I know you mourn your old chapters
You wish you could
Reverse time's flow and go backwards
To the glory days
When many of your adherents
And proponents wrote classics
Dear, I'm closing your casket...

Your clothing's so tattered
The material that's sewn in your fabrics
Was never made to be durable
So I'm pissing on your corpse...
Your grave is a urinal.