Yo, The Onion, with your headlines so absurd,
But my pen game is sharper, haven't you heard?
You commodified news, I'm dropping truth bombs,
This pen's my Excalibur, sound the victory drums!
Yo, Chris, you call it Excalibur, but it’s a Bic pen,
Your truth bombs are duds, I'm the real ink-slinger, friend.
You’re grasping for a headline, but I've got the scoop,
Your rhymes are like an empty Christmas gift, no loot!
Bic pen? Please, it's a scepter of might,
I wield it with power, get ready for the fight.
Your scoops are satire, but my lines are real,
This office turf war's about to seal the deal!
You call it a scepter, but it's a magic wand,
Your rhymes are like those kids' toys, beyond the pond.
With satire so sharp, I cut through the noise,
In this pen fight, I'm the one who enjoys!
I’m the truth teller, while you conjure up jest,
This pen’s my sword, and I’m here to contest.
Your headlines are funny, but I’m the real deal,
In this office showdown, I’m the king with the seal!
Oh, you think you're the king, but you're just a pawn,
In this office game, I'm the one who'll spawn.
Your truths might sting, but my jokes are lightning,
With every pen stroke, I'm the one igniting!
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