Backpack Power Hour

Ayo, Nathaniel, Dorian, Connor— Y’all really thought you could step up?

Nahhh

😭 Somebody get these three a timeout.

Nathaniel walk in like he’s running the place,

Whole time bro got a loading screen for a face.

Talkin’ all confident, where’d that come from?

Bro got main-character energy with NPC outcomes.

Crusty, musty, dusty, rusty,

Looking like your hoodie been sitting in the laundry.

You talk so much but the facts stay missing,

Even autocorrect looked at your texts and said,

“I’m quitting.” You thought you had bars?

Man, that’s adorable,

Your comebacks so weak they should be refundable.

Tryna roast me but you’re missing the heat,

You brought a plastic spoon to a five-course feast.

Nathaniel, Dorian, Connor—line up,

Three whole names and the confidence turned up.

Crusty, musty, dusty, what’s that smell?

Oh wait—never mind, y’all walked in the room yourselves.

Talkin’ all that mess like you’re top of the list,

But your whole squad got put on the “skip” playlist.

You came for a battle,

thought you were elite,

Now you’re three-player spectators watching me compete.

Dorian stepped up like,

“I’m next, let me cook,” Bro opened his mouth and forgot the

whole book. You got the confidence of someone ten feet tall,

But your arguments got the structure of a broken wall.

Dorian, please, put the microphone down,

You’re giving “lost tourist asking for directions” around town.

You tried to roast me,

but the joke went flat,

Even your punchline said,

“I’m not doing that.”

Dusty like an attic,

rusty like a bike,

Musty like a gym bag nobody checked twice.

You got jokes? Cool—where they at?

I searched the whole room and found absolutely that.

Nathaniel, Dorian, Connor—line up,

Three whole names and the confidence turned up.

Crusty, musty, dusty, what’s that smell?

Oh wait—never mind, y’all walked in the room yourselves.

Talkin’ all that mess like you’re top of the list,

But your whole squad got put on the “skip” playlist.

You came for a battle,

thought you were elite,

Now you’re three-player spectators watching me compete.

Now Connor walked in like,

“Move, it’s my turn,” Bro,

the only thing you’re cooking is the toast that you burned.

You got that “I’m him” attitude every day,

But the second pressure hits,

all the confidence fades.

Connor so loud, but the Wi-Fi so quiet,

Tryna start an argument—bro,

please don’t riot. Your roast game weaker than a dead phone charge,

You need three business days just to think of a bar.

You three together? That’s comedy gold,

One gets confused and the other two fold.

Nathaniel, Dorian, Connor in a squad,

Three-man team getting humbled by one little bar.

Crusty! Musty! Dusty! Rusty!

Busted! Y’all came in confident,

Now everybody’s disgusted.

😭 Not actually mad,

it’s all just jokes,

But apparently the beat got you three by the throat.

You wanted a diss?

Well, here it is— Three names on the track and absolutely no

wins.

Nathaniel, Dorian, Connor—take a seat,

Y’all brought three backpacks but forgot the receipts.

You talk real tough but the evidence is thin,

I’m not even trying and somehow I still win.

Crusty, musty, dusty, expired,

Your whole squad’s Wi-Fi has officially retired.

Three names, one beat,

and one final fact: Y’all started this roast—now you can’t roast back.

Nathaniel… sit down.

Dorian…

relax. Connor… reconnect to the server.

😭 Class dismissed.

Roast session over.

Somebody hand these boys some moisturizer.

💀