Eulogy in Ink

Eulogy in Ink

I don’t battle for clout.
I write eulogies.
You?
You just got drafted.

You wanted smoke? I exhaled scripture,
You paint bars—I sketch the bigger picture.
Your pen? A gimmick, your fame? A lease,
Your whole wave’s built on borrowed peace.

I don’t respond—I reveal your flaws,
With no beat drops, no applause.
You spit for charts—I write to haunt,
And every line I craft? A ghost that taunts.

You dropped disses—I drop dimensions,
You rap for clicks—I rap with vengeance.
This ain’t back and forth, this is literary war,
Every verse I pen—shuts one more door.

You came at me like I’m some phase,
Like I ain’t carved classics out of graveyard haze.
You record in luxury—I wrote this in dust,
With a pen dipped in loyalty and rust.

Your fans won’t save you—truth don’t bend,
Every stream you got? Won’t matter in the end.
You hide behind beats—I stand in the flame,
You play for attention—I don’t say your name.

That’s mercy. That’s power.
To end you...
Without a single shout in the tower.

They gon’ replay this in silence and grief,
Your discography? Light. Your myth? Brief.
You took a shot, thought you’d get a reaction—
But I move with surgical satisfaction.

This is chess with no timer,
Poetry that hits like a primer.
I ain’t here to kill you—I’m here to remove,
Your name from the ranks, with one swift move.

You’re not competition.
You’re a phase, a blip—
An echo drowned in a real man’s script.

They won’t chant your name when this ends…
They’ll whisper mine.
Loudest thing in your legacy…
Was my silence.