“Between you, me, and the wall, I don’t know what to do!”
When I first moved to Bapst, you seemed so cool.
I cant believe I ever made a distrack, I’m such a fool.

The way you and Colby took on a 2v3 team.
I saw you hit a shot like Kareem.
Unguardable, your moves are so supreme.

Your rhymes are so melancholy.
Whenever you play a team, they’ll be so sorry.
They got some catching up to do, send em back to schoology.

I heard you’re going D1 for golf.
All the other players watch you and sult.
Grind your competition and turn them into mulch.

Unfortunately, they won’t know what hit them.
Golf ball’s flying over their head, giving them a trim.
Competing with you would be a true grim.

Chewing that pizza like a horse.
Taking over intramural basketball with force.
Are you going to win the championship? Of course.

It’s so kind of you offer me a slice.
While I do deny, it does entice.
When I see you write, your rhymes are too nice.

My teacher said that you’re chalant.
But they’ve already blundered before the games started–checkmate, en passant.
form, fold, and fry ’em like a croissant.

My bad for underestimating you.
Changing the game like Hedo Türkoğlu.
Swishhh–get it out the net, fool.

You just have unlimited pizza in creative writing class.
But every time you say “All my meals have been passed”.
We all know you’re lying; you have muscle mass.

I mean nothing but nice things from this snippet.
When you play Fortnite and hit a shot, I yell “clip it”.
About to watch you beat the ender dragon, already got a ticket.

I know if I miss the shot, you’ve got the tip in.
Better duck, better get low, cause you’ll split the win.
Save the date, keep it pinned.