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...
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