Tape Lab Drops Drake Diss Track, but the 6 is Still Silent

Prosthetic Pop-Star Prophet

You got the numbers, the fame, your name in bright lights,
But your forehead’s big, Drake, and your ego’s twice.
You take yourself so seriously, like you’re the prophet of pop,
But it’s just a prosthetic image, your sincerity’s a flop.

Forehead shining, but the soul’s in the dark,
Prosthetic pop-star prophet, you missed the mark.
Taking selfies like a savior, but it’s all just a lark,
Your rhymes are smooth, but they’re missing the spark.

Posting on the ‘gram, flexing with the fame,
But your forehead’s got more presence than your heart in the game.
You act like you’re a sage, like you’ve got the world to teach,
But behind the autotune, there’s a hollow speech.

Forehead shining, but the soul’s in the dark,
Prosthetic pop-star prophet, you missed the mark.
Taking selfies like a savior, but it’s all just a lark,
Your rhymes are smooth, but they’re missing the spark.

Poppin’ bottles in the club, living life so lush,
But your forehead’s the star, while the lyrics hush.
Got the image down pat, but where’s the rush?
Your beats are neat, but where’s the crush?

Forehead shining, but the soul’s in the dark,
Prosthetic pop-star prophet, you missed the mark.
Taking selfies like a savior, but it’s all just a lark,
Your rhymes are smooth, but they’re missing the spark.

So here’s to the real ones, creating in the grime,
While your forehead glows, we’re crafting in time.
Prosthetic pop-star prophet, you’ve got the climb,
But in the underground, we’re making the chime.