Epic rap battles of history!

John Wick

VersusJohn 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!