MURDERFIA: REDUX: (VERY END)

Is that all you got, boss, conditional fake loss?
Want me stooping to your level? Brother, that is weak sauce.
Better start waggling that tongue. The traps have all been sprung,
Since you opened up your mouth and that first lyric was sung.

You paint the easy target Fogel, wordsmith or not,
That condition hinders rhythm, rhythm which I have got.
What I failed to realize was that it hinders brainwaves too,
I mean, why take out one player when I can take out a few?

Mirdini needs to step up and play the bloody poet,
Because my plan for this battle is essentially to throw it.
If you win, invincibility wreaks havoc on his fun,
But if he joins, the game is set, and I can snag a two-for-one.

You need to trump the both of us in gangster wordplay
Or be the bottom bitch in our lingual three-way.
You should have left me hanging and let Mirdini begin,
But I think your big mistake here was thinking that you could win.