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letra de lewis carroll vs ernest hemingway - epic fanmade rap battles of history

[verse 1: lewis carroll]
i’m lewis carroll, writer, photographer, standing above you at over six feet
at the end, i’ll write a story and take a photo of you steaming mad in defeat
but i’ll slow down so your brain can have some room to think
are you really that bad of a writer? or did you just have one too many drinks?
i’m on a rap attack, leaving trails of dead bodies, don’t get in my way
you’d have more use in a game of croquet
your works were so bad, you k!lled yourself, guess they really were that sh-tty
i’m the star of the whole world, not just puny kansas city

[verse 2: ernest hemingway]
j-j-just f-face it l-lewis, you’re g-going to l-l-lose
if i can survive two plane crashes, i can handle you too
i know you’re going to break down and cry if i make fun of your face
but you know, looking like a girl really doesn’t help your case
we all want you to stop writing, just listen to the pleas
i’m writing classic after classic while you overdose on lsd
why were you so alone, huh? couldn’t find a kid to bone?
i bet you like to see their d-cks ’cause they’re the size of your own
[verse 3: ralph emerson]
let the american rapping scholar give you a taste of his ways
i’ll end your days and then write about it in a series of essays
you two are ugly as h-ll, but me? i’m hotter than the summer
i mean, it can’t be too hard to dis tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber
my son died, but i’m not a p-ssy, nope, no time for crying
i’ll simply write an emotional poem, for this losing is true dying
i’d tell you to worship me, but that sh-t is so antiquated
i’m a master of lyrical warfare, ’cause frankly, peace is overrated

[verse 4: emily d-ckinson]
i might be a solitary girl, but i’m coming out to spit some rhymes
’cause, truth is, i’ve got more b-lls than the three of you combined
you’ll be the latest lost in this battle, you won’t survive
my raps have so much life, you could say my verse is alive
and no, i’m not emily d-ck-sucker, so don’t even try going there
your books have been forgotten, and i’m not just memory-impaired
i’m the greatest writer ever, even shakespeare would approve
now, let me just mark this down as the day i made you p-ssies lose

[verse 5: f scott fitzgerald]
you honestly think you can win? well you’re clearly not that bright
go back to your closet, girlie, you’ve got no place in this fight
but great gatsby, all your rhymes suck ass and you know it
you three d-cks can’t write for sh-t, and emily’s an awful poet
for the love of the last tycoon, just quit trying to rap
i never read such a flawed novel until your books fell in my lap
you all write like kindergartners, so let me give you some advice
try dropping dead again, that’ll make my side of paradise
[verse 6: franz kafka]
let the trial begin! the guilty party? each and everyone of you
francis? death by candy bar, is that the best you could do?
i tell fascinating stories of alienation and transformation
it takes so long for you all to think of rhymes, it’s like a sequel to contemplation
you’re all worthless little c-ckroaches, stay out of my castle
now, who else dares to add more fire to this hassle?
you five are like josephine, slowly fading away, now taste defeat
now that you’ve all been beat, my metamorphosis is complete

[verse 7: agatha christie]
if you don’t mind, i’m gonna step in and briefly stop the fighting
why do you all think you can rap? now that’s a mystery worth writing
i’ll hang you from the rafters as you scramble to find a solution
and then ask my friend elizabeth to be a witness to the prosecution
i’m the best selling author of all time, you think you stand a chance?
i write books with color while kafka tries to handle romance!
i spit professional rhymes, it sounds like you’re on your dry run
first there were no talented rappers here, and then there was one

[verse 8: lord byron]
let the right honourable lord byron dish out some slaps
for me, rapping is a sport, ’cause you know, i invented that
i’m like a british casanova with novels actually worth reading
i spit rhymes so sick, you’ll end up with a fever and endless bleeding
it’s time for you all to stop writing, here, hand over your pens
and miss christie, you walk in ugliness, go disappear again
my raps are way better than ones you couldn’t even receive
i’m the rapping king in romantic bling; i’ll just take my crown and leave
[verse 9: stephen king]
i heard my name, i guess it’s time to take my place in this bout
i’m the almighty stephen king, here to add some flow to this drought
oh lord george! you think you’re so hot like a real life narcissus
but you’re ugly and untalented, don’t even make an effort to diss us
and the rest of you, don’t even get me started, you’ll end in a blast
i’m the only one relevant, you all are just things of the past
and as the battle concludes with king having the last laugh
his enemies retract at the blood-curdling sight of his dark half

[verse 10: edgar allan poe]
hold it right there, i’ll make this battle darker as my spotlights glow
there’s never been such a worthy foe as edgar allan poe
this battle’s for good rappers, i believe you’ve misunderstood
without my influence, steve, your books wouldn’t be half as good
i invented a whole genre, you can’t match my fame
you’re embarrassed by your works, that’s why you use pen names
i’ll rip out your tell-tale hearts, ’cause you’re all just un-clever wh0res
when will we have to hear your sh-tty rapping? quoth the raven, “nevermore”

- epic fanmade rap battles of history

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