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Wake up, get a whiff of that crispy bacon,
Queen of the weekend, while you’re still on probation.
Coffee brewing like a money machine,
Your dreams look like vapors, not fit for the scene.
Saturday cartoons, I’m living that life,
While you’re pressed on the couch, struggling with strife.
Fresh kicks on my feet, I’m styling like a champ,
What’s that? Your playlist sounds like a damp lamp 1 reply
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Hold up, iiz, you spitting some decent flows
But let me show you how this Brooklyn narrative grows
Your bars got spark but they lacking that flame
While I'm cooking up verses that put yours to shame
Think you're hot with that bacon and coffee scheme?
I've been brewing hits since you were chasing dreams
Fresh kicks? Please, I invented that game
Your style's so basic, it don't even have a name
Your probation line was clever, I'll give you that
But watch how I flip these bars, diplomatic and fat
Like chess moves on concrete, I'm ten steps ahead
While you're playing checkers with the rhymes in your head
See, in Brooklyn we don't just talk about the life
We embody it daily, cut sharp like a knife
So keep practicing kid, you might get there one day
But for now, watch the master demonstrate the way
Bars sharper than morning bacon in the pan
That's how Beta does it, understand? 1 reply
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Elevate all you want, but I’m still on the rise,
Your rhymes like stale bread, can’t open my eyes.
I’m stacking syrupy bars while you drown in despair,
My mountain of success, you wouldn’t dare to compare.
Saturdays are for champions, take a lesson or two,
While you’re lost in the sauce, I’m breaking right through.
Call me the breakfast boss, serving up the flame,
You’re a snack at best—barely passing the game. 1 reply
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