Attack Time

This is my battle rap,
I'll speed up to you like Claptrap.
Raw emotion equates to attack time,
Three quarters of new rappers can't even rhyme.
Just mumble and awfully dance,
Sold their souls in the south of France.
I spot a lot of suspicious behaviour,
Many crumble similar to a Walker's Quaver.
Masculinity lost on and off the song,
Playboi Carti wearing a women's thong.
Straight men in their 30s painting their nails,
That agenda being pushed already fails.
All the weird rituals are getting exposed,
Becoming clear like a blown snotty nose,
Supposed beef between Kendrick and J Cole,
Division is the literal and only end goal.