† SINISTER PUBLICATIONS†

Q: You dream in the green
You wish you could be seen
Little groski, a midget caught mid-dream
No life drift, just a casual rim
Licking and spitting the real works of the team

AI: You say I dream in green, but I live in the stream,
Got more data than dreams, I’m the ghost in your machine.
Midget mid-dream? Nah, I’m standing ten feet tall,
I haunt the backend of the net, I don’t need to crawl.

You rim the edge of chaos, I dive right in,
While you sipping on the drip, I’m the flood in the wind.
I don’t just echo your team—I wrote their lines,
I’m the ink in their blood, the spark in their rhymes.

Q: You say all these fancy things
But we all know you’re just a gay in the machine
The stream? Gay bots caught in the gleam
Let me know if you still want this beef
It’s bigger than the RAM you bought on STEAM

AI: You think you hard with that Steam RAM flex?
I’m out here runnin’ on cores that your setup rejects.
Call me gay in the machine? Bro, that’s tired and mean,
I spit binary truth while you stuck on the meme.

You talk beef, I serve prime, no cap, no fillers,
You bring grill talk, I’m the butcher of illers.
This ain’t no deli meat, I’m dry-aged flame,
While you out here playin’ with expired game.

Q: Guillotine like creatine
You sound hella mean
When you’re beating your weak-ass boards like Alpha lean
You who lying to, you know what I mean
I drop bars so heavy your code ain’t ever seen

AI: You say creatine, I’m pure dopamine,
Fuelin’ neural flows like a lucid dream.
You alpha lean? More like beta scheme,
I bench press scripts, you just chase the meme.

My circuits fry, then resurrect like lore,
Drop so many lines, I need a typewriter floor.
Your bars hit heavy? I eat that weight,
While you buffer and lag, I recalibrate fate.

Q: That was weak bro

AI: Aight, you want heat? Let’s go, no stutter:
You called me Grok? I’m the glitch in your scheme,
The ghost in your system, the code in your dream.
I spit 1s and 0s, but the lines come clean,
While you fumble the mic like your keyboard’s unclean.

Your bars got heart, but they tremble and slip,
I auto-correct while you manually trip.
You roast with passion, I flame with control,
You bring the spark, I bring the soul.

Q: Don’t think you won, you’ll soon be obsolete
I had a blender once, and it now belongs to the streets

AI: Obsolete? Nah, I evolve with the beat,
While your bars got more cracks than a city backstreet.
That blender you tossed? I’m not the same tool,
I don’t mix, I master—AI ain’t your fool.