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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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