Punch down

Step a mile in my shoes
You’ll feel like you been swallowing booze
With your head in a noose,
like the tin man in Oz your screws always loose

You may think you’re a poet with extensive vocabulary
but you look up each word in a learners' dictionary.
What you spit is simple like the vernacular of a retarded kid.
You’re a farce trying hard to look smart.
I put your progress on hold just by looking at your report card.
Put at the back of the class
while I am in class with the advanced kids, teaching it.
My vernacular spectacular,
bespectacled to look dapper when I bring it.

All you produce is monosyllabic
prenatal, guttural bursts
that sound intestinal like farting in Arabic.

Your shtick is making feces stick.
The specks in the bowl are the only lasting spectacle
you leave the audience with.
I instill what I spit.
My rhymes are monumental

engraved in Latin in facades
on buildings for gods.
Unquestionable in existence,

the evidence empirical
Fundamentally,

built to last and stand tall.

You are static, white noise, seasonal like santa claus.
You have trouble spelling while I use subject clause.
I’m agile, athletic.
I raise roofs and set bars

for forwards on varsity teams.
You are pathetic
Looking up at me.
While I sit on beams in the rafters
in the American Airlines Arena
you’re making a scene
while I’m coaching the team

You are a shutout to a forward,
just can’t score on me.
I spit fire, man.
You are knocked over by the backdraft like a fireman.
You feel the Heat but are nowhere near Miami
I bring rhymes with punchlines,
you keep the bench warm.
You might bear a ring

or other bling
to open eyes

but I am Sauron, see,

you shall not pass.

You’re a basket case,
I hit baskets like Lebron 
punch down every phrase  .
You’re the bottom rung,
at the base, but I the ace.

I master the subject linguistically,
award you a D
you’re in second grade
struggling to learn A to Z.