Stay In Your Lane

Verse

Dante step up, but he tremblin’ steady,

Your flow so weak even silence ain’t ready.

You claim you a monster, but boy you a pet,

I put you on a leash — that’s the only respect.

You rap like your bars came in coupons and clearance,

I rap like my pen got divine interference.

Your punchlines miss, mine fracture your spirit,

You drop a new track? Nobody wanna hear it.

You the ghost of a career that never began,

I’m the type to kill a dream with the swipe of my hand.

Your confidence brittle, your cadence a mess —

You spit like Siri but with half the finesse.

Chorus

Dante, Dante — man, stay in your lane,

This ain’t a rap battle; it’s a public remains.

I’m the plague on your name, I’m the storm in your brain,

You step up to me? That’s self-inflicted pain.

Verse

You a background filler in the cypher clips,

I’m the headline artist — yeah, we not equipped

The same way, nah… your craftsmanship laughable,

You rhyme like a textbook, predictable, factual.

Tryna flex on me? That’s a comical choice,

You got the tone of defeat in the cracks of your voice.

Your whole style outdated, like you rappin’ on tape,

I’m the glitch in the matrix — boy, you can’t escape.

You punch with pillow impact, barely hit ribs,

I drop bars that make pros reconsider their gigs.

You stand on stage looking lost and afraid —

Even your shadow leaves early; it don’t wanna stay.

Bridge

See, I don’t need to shout, my presence speaks,

Your career flatlined before it hit two weeks.

I turn contenders to rumors, legends to dust,

But Dante? You crumble if the mic stand bumps.

Verse

Dante, sit down — this a master at work,

You a footnote rapper, I’m a lyrical clerk

Stamping “DENIED” on your attempts to rise —

Your whole catalog’s filler, your best verse lies.

You rap like you scared your own voice’ll crack,

I rap like the booth gon’ collapse off impact.

Your metaphors lazy, your presence a sham,

You softer than beats made on Instagram.

I peel rappers apart with the calmest tone,

I don’t aim for your body — I dismantle the throne.

You tried to build one? It’s made out of fears —

I knock it down gently, then just sweep up the tears.

Outro

So Dante… next time you think you ready to spar,

Remember: I don’t throw punches — I manufacture scars.

This was mercy, boy — the light version of wrath,

Say the word again, and I’ll triple the aftermath.