Epic rap battles of history!
John Wick
Versus
John McClane
Versus
John Rambo
Begin!
Alright, guess I'll be the one to draw first blood
Or maybe you can draw an audience to see any of your new movies
Come out to the coast, we'll have a few laughs, sounds sweet
But no, I'm stuck here with these two jerkweeds 'bout to kick their ass with bare feet
Argyle, drop the beat
I'll set it off like it's the top of Nakatomi
Need a fire hose to swing on you, you're both so below me
I haven't stopped killing it since Karl's brother Tony
And I got your detonators right here
Blow me (oops)
Ship your booby traps home Rambo
'Cause you'll never take the W without the P and O
Does your lip hang low?
Does it wobble to and fro?
Can you string that shit up on your compound bow?
And lighten up Wick, with your brooding saga
How about a little hakuna matata Baba Yaga?
You got the trousers (tapered)
And the watch (Bucherer)
But your acting falls flatter than the Hans (Gruber)
Leave the underground coin game to Mario Brothers
And John, Bubbe, what the fuck's with the chest butter?
That bandolier looks heavy as shit
I'm like this prick's ring finger, only need one clip
I been sharp as shattered glass since the late '80s
And like your late pup I'll leave you pushing up daisies
Less is more boys, that's my advice
You, less survival knife
You, more survival wife
Ooh
I'm gonna need a dinner reservation for two
John Wick, I'm efficient and lean
A proficient, professional, killing machine
Underworld overachiever looking dapper as I'm bucking
Only one of us to go three chapters without sucking
Between your elevator and the mine where you were trapped
You're such wieners I should call you both John Shaft
I craft rhymes with pencils then jam 'em in necks
So I'm not vexed by vets flexing roid-injected pecs
Being excommunicado wasn't more than I could handle
So I think I can withstand an excremental ex-commando
And this sad, broken, dad-joking popo is no foe
For the hurt-you-oh-so-bad virtuoso
Ho ho ho to quivers and bows
I'm delivering blows and when they land it won't help to make fists with your toes
Bitcoin?
No
Hitcoin?
Certainly
I'll put you two in tombs call it cryptocurrency
Obey your superior, like good cops and soldiers
Raven, Roy, you're done, over
Nothing is over!
Nothing!
You just don't turn it off
Unless, it's one of your movies
In which case, I just turn it off!
Huh!
When I rip off my shirt and start swinging my stick swords
I'm hotter than the suicide girls on your switchboards
My headband's red but I got no love for Commies
And no juice was used to produce these armies
Your High Table rules don't apply to this conflict
I'll finish you right in the lobby, mission accomplished
McClane! South is where your marriage went
The last tight thing you slid in was an air vent
They used to say you were a handsome crusaders
Too bad your hairline couldn't get saved by Steve Urkel's neighbor
Oh!
I slip into the jungle disappear like a ghost
Then ding!
I pop up hot behind ya like toast!
I seek peace but I'm packing parabellum
I was trained to be the very best soldier boy
Tell 'em!
I'll blast an RPG through NYPD's guts
Simon says you can PTSDeez nuts!
Jesus Christ asshole! Whattaya doin'?
This is not some Saturday morning cartoon for you to ruin
Only thing getting ruined is McClane family Christmas
All your kids still have "decent dad" on their wishlist
Woah, Rambo's droppin' bombs in his flows
Did your pals in the Taliban help you write those?
Those were mujahideen, there's a difference
The Taliban formed in the '90s when you fell off with a vengeance
Hey! Who the fuck asked you dog pound?
Why don't you go lock your mouth in a hole in the ground
Hole!
Lock!
Argh!
Argh!
Argh!
You're both a funeral suit away from presentable
I'm thinking I'm back and I'm thinking you're expendable
You wanna Die Hard? Well today's a good day
Let's go motherfuckers
Yippee-Ki-Yay!
Who won?
Who's next?
You decide!
Epic rap battles of history!
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