So you think you're a big shot—

What are you,
fat mouth talking,
something to prove.

Have some shame
and rein it in,
cause nobody's buying
the bombast you're selling,
and your half cocked posture
ain't that compelling.

Look at you,
arms akimbo,
snide hips askew.

You're so high
on your smug
that you can forget,
your 'hot shit'
ain't nothing more
than a steaming pile of it.

Who are you,
a bully pout
that we see through.

1, 2

rhyming is hard.