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Robin Hood vs. Guy Fawkes
by
Freshy Kanal
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Lyrics
Many men speak of Robin Hood But they don't got his flow While you were panicking, dillydallying under the throne I'd be hijacking into the palace to plunder the gold And then get back on my stallion galloping to papplewick Refunding the broke with the money that the monarchy stole Then maybe leave a little gift behind, for the rich to find What kind of present doesn't come with a bow? The most dashing a**a**in, you couldn't leave a scratch on me With either your sword or bombs With a face likе that man you lacked attraction Until they turned your hеad into a tourist one This time make sure your matchstick works When I send you more underground than the catholic church You were persecuted, couldn't get married and go to ma** and worse You had to put on your grandma's shirt But what does a man in tights know about that Well I do know belts don't go on your hat Couldn't blow the king dead but at least you're remembered By making dogs p*ss themselves every 5th of November How did your hidden agenda get thwarted? How did they possible cotton on to your rotten plot and spot the bombs promptly? When popping the protestants stop your posse from gossiping I can hear them plotting all the way from my forest in Nottingham Your followers are tossers and pillock pilgrims and dunces All that gunpowder to bloody blunder and buss-t it It wasn't your plot, you were following orders So I'll be another Rob that you're taking the fall for Those were 'the rhymes of Robin Hood'? You should pilfer some doper raps But hey, you successfully robbed me Of a minute of my life that I won't get back I fought in an 80 year battle Shed blood so the Spanish flag could fly Compare that to your little ballads They read like a peter pantomime I've an affinity for artillery So don't bring a bow to a cannon fight If you wanna trade blows, Robin Hood I will set you and your stock market app alight Bloke, your views just ain't consistent You hate the rich, yet you're mates with Richard Evidently you just can't take commitment Marian's still waiting for her wedding day to finish Sure, your aim is great when it's ranged equipment But my aim was to change the system I'm a deadly disease with this cadence, rhythm And I'm infecting a thief like it's plague-iarism For a glorified hog roast, I expected hot stuff But there's not Much the minister's son can knock up John Johnson sucks like Prince John's thumbs He got hung more than Little John's Johnson You're Christian? Read the Bible God ain't too keen on the genocidal Don't get within range of the british Hawkeye When your shots are bullsh*t, and mine? (Bullseye!) I tend to be friendly with any enemy showing Them plenty mercy no matter the stakes or peril (Oh Robin!) Remember remember, the very day that I'm making A special case and I'm splitting you like an arrow (He shot him!) The bloody band o' men that I'm rolling with are the merriest Your friends abandoned you like wine with barrels in a cellar, kid You're not a vigilante veteran, you're a domestic terrorist Don't need a revolution Guy, you need a therapist You shan't mock my sacrifice, the King Knew that he'd have to hang me twice Yes, they cut my balls off and I still got Bigger b******* than every merry man combined For the torture you'll have horses tied to every corner And limb and forced to ride pulling your torso, hung, drawn and quartered Never spoke at all though, cuz there's only one Lord I'd talk to You're a dorky Zorro the most awful outlaw to be thought as moral So unboard your high horse cuz your retorts are not warm If I can't fight a fire with fire I'll fight a Fox with Fawkes Have you not learned a word from your sh*te books? F**king pervert, Robin Hood head to sherwood and hide, run Cuz my raps are like a servant of church and they're girthy Furnished with so much hunger and thirst it's like my verses are Friar Tuck Are you curtsying burglars quite done with referring To how I burnt and got turned into fine dust? Wait until you learn the merk that you're serving under you heard Who could never be hurt or murdered by none got f**king murdered by nuns Upon a time Rob of Locksley ventured to my Hood and thought that his plot was better I'll show this archer some honest intentions When I chop off his fingers like V for vendetta
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