DNA FAKE LYRICIST

[Intro: Kal Paseo & Sample of DNA Tru Lyricist]
Should DNA kill himself? Hmm
That's all y'all, y'all joke around too much
Go fuckin' slit your fuckin' throat in the bathroom, you piece of fuckin 'shit
Fuck you
You're a piece of fuckin' shit bitch-ass fuckin' kid
That's what the fuck you are, man
Fuckin' sick of-

[Verse 1: Kal Paseo]
David G. Phelps
You goin' against a G, you need help
If I embarrass you hard enough, you might know how those beats felt
This G is a Goliath, two Gs equal GG
That G should be silent, you don't deserve to speak (shut up, ho')
GG to whoever wins, either way, I'm a good sport
You look like the type to prick the ball and stomp off the court (fuck)
I'm not gon' pretend that you scared or inferior
As soon as I drop this, you boutta drop your tail, call this bitch Eeyore
Don't be an ass, that's how you get fucked
This must bе the second time you apologizе when not in luck
You can only make A threat, I've become THE threat
Eject, reject, reset your career in dust
Stated previously that everybody's afraid to scrap
This coming from the buster who made the Fortnite Rap
DNA Fake Lyricist
Greatest self-ventriloquist
Don't let 'em see the lips move, they might think I'm fearin' this
Ironic how you diss on the LGBT with that suspicious-ass lisp
Tryna get attention on MTV
That's an L, G, B giving Tea but nobody drinking, it's finished
How your daughter look up to you when you the reason there's feminist women? (Feminist)
I'm not scared to challenge you, I'm only disappointed
The shit you say to fans online when you could avoid it
Tellin' somebody to kill themselves is suicide if I find out
My homies go through that, get your punk ass on the mic now
All he got is violence and homophobia
I look forward to your reflection when you fully bald with amblyopia
Block me too if you think I'm afraid
Tell me this diss is fear
You're nothin' but a Redditor watchin' another kid destroy you 'til you're rinsing tears
Your life is so much of a comedy that I gotta force myself to laugh
Like the way that you force out a laughable track
Got few bars
I'ma have to stock up on laugh tracks to show how much of a laughing stock you are

[Interlude: Kal Paseo & Sample of DNA Tru Lyricist]
Bitch
Are you actually serious right now?
Buy a mic that costs more than 15 dollars, bro
Get the fuck out of here
Get this bitch-ass gay faggot off my shit too
This is just- this is pathetic, man
You've done it so many times now

[Verse 2: DOWN6]
Ripgut copy, screamin' at kids like Moseby
In a motel, so Fortnite lobby?
Kiss-ass to Brotha Lynch, might as well give Rino sloppy
Think you'll get lady sex with your baby pecs
But my eighty men will line up in a circle
Dickin' you down 'til you cry for mommy
Aight, David, where's yo' daughter's daddy at?
He's at the strip club with his baby mama, gettin' fucked in the ass
You ain't tough, buster, the handcuffs done must've been too tight
Have to bounce some balls to prove that you're a straight guy, ironic, right?
You take the cake for the most lyrical dumbassery in your strides
Literature dryer than your ex-wife's pussy at night
Be lucky you have those weekends, she gave you weak end of the stick
I bet it makes you sick
Imagine, in court, they play the lyrics of you sayin' you raped some bitch
Explain it's art, but the pain remarks
When the lawyer smirks and judge goes dark
You look like a high school reject
Grabbin' you the by v-neck, slammin' you into coment
David gonna have to start runnin', just like his nose bleed, need a Kleenex?
We gen-z is all he sees next
Locked his potential in a box and swallowed the key, unleashin'
What really means to be the Tru Lyricist, doomed in appearance
Cargo shorts and a wife beater
Shitty K-Mart necklace danglin' like the mic that he left behind back in 2009
Jason and Freddy gave him anal with two thousand knives deep in your roots
Uncurving the bone and slice up the nerves in your spine on the surface
Not a purpose presented, DNA's not curving this sentence, it's life
Twenty years of straight shit, the same twenty peers listen to you spit
The same twenty got you spittin' and chokin' on their dicks
A new slogan for DNA "I'm a hopeless Tru Bitch"
Face it, Six, Slum, Kal, and Skel destroyed any essence of Phelps
You ain't never put your best self to the test of this hell
The bells have rung, one-on-one with David
And the pavement clung on every piece of your skull
I stomp on his chest until his lungs are caved-in like a bowl, for brunch
I throw this golden punch and eat this golden cunt for lunch but I'm never full