Yo, episode one-eighty-four, we back in the zone,
Joe and Reese, faded stars, whinin’ on the phone.
Talkin’ pickles, boots, gigs, they diss with a grin,
Tyler Childers, Elvis C, pitchy, can’t win.
Hare Krishnas droppin’ chants, these fools just smirk,
Stage sound’s trash, man, they vibe don’t work.
Joe’s got a roofin’ tale, too raw for the mic,
Propofol gum dreams, yeah, they trippin’ on spite.
Sarcasm drippin’, they flop, feelin’ low,
Two has-beens spittin’ in this sad-ass show.
Hope ya hate it, fo’ shizzle, this mess ain’t tight,
Tune in, diss our vibe, we’re done for the night.

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