Tekst piosenki Ragnar Lodbrok vs Richard the Lionheart
[Richard the Lionheart]
I'm Richard I, from the Third Crusade
That only leaves room for you in second place!
The chivalrous swinger of the sword and mace
And I'll kill you when I spit like a pit full of snakes!
I'm the number one Dick rising up to make you feel small
My battering ram slams through your shield wall
I'll announce at the next of your Things
That I'm chomping through your family like boneless wings!
Of course you got avenged by a kid with no bones
Your own story ended worse than Game of Thrones
Your son killed your ex, your ex killed your wife
I'm the Lion King, man, but that's a messed up circle of life!
Half-assed head tats can't be condoned
It's like you raided the face of Post Malone
I'm scared of no foe, I'm backed by the Trinity
I'll conquer you on my day off like you were Sicily!
Threatening to conquer Ragnar is bold
For a king who got whacked by a ten year old
I'll sacrifice you to Odin while drinking horns of mead
Good thing you hold a Red Cross 'cause that's who you're going to need!
You built your army by raising English taxes
I raise my army taxing English asses with my axes!
And who are you to talk about the circle of life?
Your old lady can't feel the love on any night!
Your only son was illegitimate, you heired on the side
I'll twist your spine like the end of the Plantagenet line
I'm just a warrior, I'm not a linguist
But I think the king of England should probably speak English!
You took Acre and Jaffa like a piece of cake
But never attacked Jerusalem, for Christ's sake
You saw the Holy Land but couldn't go all the way
We should call it the Crusade of Richard the First Base!
[Richard the Lionheart]
Sail back north with your barbarian goons
Because I'm tearing down your legacy: leaving it in runes
Your real self next to your legend disappoints
I see you shaking in your shaggy little pants like "Zoinks!"
Who invented the royal me? We!
Who's the predominantly fictional MC? Thee!
You're a wannabe, mon ami, kneel down and honor me
Richard coming through in the end like Sean Connery
The double-coronated blood and gore gourmet
You might have the axe, but I make a body spray!
Lionheart's the sobriquet but I strike like a cobra
If I wanted to fight loser Vikings, I'd go to Minnesota!
You want to fight me? Take off the tin shirt!
I'll be waiting in my birthday suit, going berserk!
Ding dang dong, morning bells warn about me at the break of dawn
And I'm putting you to sleep like your brother John
Leaving monks in chunks on Northumbrian lawns
'Cause I'm the Allfather's spawn!
You couldn't even beat a Salad in a fight
You're as soft as Monty Python knights
You went from chainmail to chained up in jail
Til Mommy drained England to pay for your bail
But no king's ransom will save you from these bars, son
I'm eating you alive like the gangrene you died from!
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