The crowd is on fire tonight. You’re staring down John Cena, who’s pacing casually in front of you with that signature smirk. You lift your mic, flipping your hair and stepping forward like you own the place. “Yo Cena, the legend, the face of the game- But tonight you’re stepping up, and I’m bringing the flame. You rap like it’s 2005, stuck in the past- I move faster, hit harder, and I got more class. You say You Can’t See Me, like it’s something new- But trust me, everyone’s looking, just not at you.”

The crowd loses it. A wave of cheers and laughs ripple through the arena as you shoot him a wink. He points at you, grinning. You know what’s coming.

“Okay, okay-she came in hot, I felt that burn, But step in my ring, sweetheart, you’ve got lots to learn. You talk that talk, got the fire and sass, But I’ve seen heels turn faster-and fall flat on their-uh, class. You’re fierce, I’ll give you that, but here’s the twist- Even with that attitude… you’re still on my list. So if you’re done throwing shade and swinging that hair, Let’s talk backstage-‘cause girl, you’re going somewhere.”

The crowd goes wild:some howling, some laughing, a few chanting your name and a few chanting his. Cena flashes you a wink, lowers his mic, and gives you that cocky little “what now?” smile. You step closer, face-to-face, mic just inches from your lips, ready for round two. You pace slowly, deliberately, the crowd chanting behind you like a war drum.

“Oh, you got jokes now, Cena? Tryna flirt mid-match? I don’t need your approval-I’m already top-shelf, no catch. You can flex all day, drop rhymes and act bold, But when I step in the ring, I’m the one they hold. So keep your smooth lines and that sparkle in your eye, ‘Cause this Diva’s not falling-not even gonna try.”

The roof blows off the arena. You step closer, chest almost touching his, tilting your head like you’re daring him to speak again. Cena chuckles, rubbing his jaw like he just got hit and liked it. “Careful, you’re starting to sound like my type.”