MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!
Let me Kickstart this confrontation, skipping past all formal nonsense;
Spend less time bush-beating than you took to show a hippo's Johnson:
I stuck it to Disney hard, inspiring their return to form,
While you inspired Ren and Stimpy's adult show, plus furry porn!
Bankruptcy couldn't keep this good Don down, you perverted, racist slob;
You're stoned as any troll queen's victims if you think you'll do the job!
I bring choice tales to life, from B.C. times to After Earth's destroyed,
So tell your freaky Doodle friends that I'm one 'Noid they'd best avoid!
I've got a master plan to which not even Jenner'd raise objection,
And for once, I won't let any execs muck with those intentions.
Dusting cels at Terrytoons is where you should have stayed for life:
Just think how Crumby your career would be if not for Robert's wife!
There'll be no tacked-on happy end to what I'll put you through today,
So disregard what you were told by Xanadu, and walk away!
As sharp as any T-rex chompers while attacking microphones;
Hey, I'm one Don more liable to piss you off than Corleone!
Think me some bigot pornographer; when will you people learn?
No, I'm your lyrical hitman, and things won't take a Peaceful turn;
The burns I spit'll worse-than-Singe you once you step in my lair, fool,
So brace for an unfiltered lecture, courtesy of Bakshi School:
You're fucking with the patron saint of animation's underground,
Who's in control of more than just the flippers as he knocks you 'round!
Coonskin made negroes doubt my whiteness, but I'll make you go albino;
Milk this track for all it's worth like Universal has your dinos!
I'll tear you more holes where sun don't shine than Rock-a-Doodle's plot,
So don't be fursecuting me; you tried to make a pheasant hot!
Me, I show people how things are, especially when it ain't pretty;
Never pandering, I keep real even with the nineteen-fifties!
I'm a wiz at tackling the heavy: drugs, war, segregation,
All while channelling pop music's power through the generations!
I beat South Park to T.V.; made even Nicktoons take some pages.
In inspiring Disney's Renaissance, you brought your own Dark Ages!
Listen here now, Rotoscope-It Ralph: don't charge me with shark-jumping,
'Cause it's clear that you and Mighty Mouse have both been snorting something.
Oh, and while on the subject of mice, I've brought a friend along,
So let me just stare at you for a bit while she takes up this song:
Mrs. Brisby: Get ready to be made a jackass of, and no Small One, at that,
By a deceptively small heroine who'll halt you in your tracks,
And needs no magic stone to show her strength within a verbal fight;
The N.C.'s Number Three, this widow's damn-near-black in terms of bite!
You'll catch pneumonia from my chilling licks; I'll whoop you as you cough,
And how can you survive this clash when half your own flicks axed you off?
Well, here's my beef: I rented one of your alleged "family" titles,
And its wack content transformed my Martin into Eric Idle!
Bluth: Gobbling chump cartoonists up like quarters by my game machines,
I'll push more of your buttons than it takes to get Dirk through a scene!
Each insult in my pool of disses is heart-stopping as Duke's death is;
Seeing this battle to its finish!
Mrs. Brisby: …Unlike you with Tolkien's epic!
Using someone else's character as your mascot? For shame;
She'll get flung clear across the valley like what should have been her name!
In any case, your Dr. Seuss schtick is a game two can partake in,
So here, kitty, kitty: come and bust rhymes harder than your rating!
Fritz the Cat: Time to buckle down for once; I won't be bugging out, my homie,
When I join in your revolt against this thick-skulled pussy-phony!
Sorry, wishful-thinking mice: America has many cats,
But not one other's quite the superstar that Fritz is; that's a fact!
Among all indie cartoon flicks, none's gross or grossness has been higher;
Pushed the envelope? I set the goddamn P.O. box on fire!
A far-out, revolutionary poet who'll torment your soul,
I've battled many a good man, but you ain't one of them, asshole!
Bakshi: I'll leave you breathless as when Fievel's ballad lost to aviators;
Make sweet music with the innards of your big-lipped alligator!
Bitch, you make Dom DeLuise look like some kind of Killer Tiger;
C.N.R.'s butch next to you!
Fritz: …And he don't mean Weird Al's take, either!
Your brain must be on the Fritz!
Mrs. Brisby: …And I thought Dragon was a pain;
To call that prick's film an "experiment" makes NIMH's tests seem humane!
Bluth: Man, how he's even still alive is a Schrodinger-worthy question;
Either way, methinks this calls for some angelic intervention…
Charlie Barkin: Lookie here, now: what a shock; I'm yet again among the living,
But I'll see that you can never come back from the jibes I'm spitting!
You should let me be surprised and make like clocks; start turning back,
Or else not even your Love's going to survive this rap-attack!
Your pal makes Holden Caulfield look heroic, lynching porky coppers,
And I'll shut him down like Ralph's hopes to adapt the Catcher proper:
Watch me take away his life, and then the other eight as well,
Because all dogs may go to Heaven, but that cat can yiff in Hell!
Bluth: The bottom line is: you go too damn far…
Charlie: …And he don't say that lightly…
Bluth: …While your bars are cheaply-cobbled as your stint with Sixties Spidey!
It won't turn out to be just a daydream when I blow your mind
Until you're gone with naught a trace, and only photos left behind!
A canine standing between cat and mouse; what is this, Tom and Jerry?
Fritz: Also: what did you make Time Warp on? I'd pay to try that crap…
Bakshi: My next creation, by contrast, need not be high to roll with fairies,
So hold on together tight, now, not that you'll be spared his wrath…
Avatar the Wizard: It's time to shift away from urban life and toward the more fantastic;
The O.G. post-cataclysmic wizard's here to sow some magic:
Bending more than just four elements' worth as I Scortch this mic,
I'll make your whole crap kingdom crumble like my brother's wack Fourth Reich,
But it won't take three million years to tell that Ralph's will never fade!
You'd best believe that I'm for real, unlike when Elinore betrayed.
My sleeve holds quite the nasty trick that's sure to knock you off your throne,
Namely: a Luger, aimed straight at your heart; eat yours out, Indy Jones.
Bakshi: See, I'm the bigger man…
Fritz: …A ballsy man…
Avatar: …A man chock-full of vision!
Bakshi: I'll put Charlie deeper undersea than his film's competition!
A damn brontosaurus's demise was your high-point of drama;
What are rodent immigrants' woes against the Belinksys' saga?
Charlie: Cheech here's got less material than his slut girl's outfit!
Mrs. Brisby: Hey, here's an ice pick, Donnie; use it!
Charlie: Leave him going: "THEY KILLED FRITZ"!
Bluth: Relax, my pretties, for my secret comeback weapon's primed to go;
Bakshi, beware: she'll whoop, ka-pow, hi-yah, and kick your ass, sir!
Anastasia: …Yo, let's journey to the past; to Russia, early 20th Century,
Where the Bolshe- …I mean Rasputin's slain the royal clan, 'cept for me!
The avenger of my family and of Charlie's ticket sales,
This best princess from any non-mouse house is here, and kicking tail!
A DNA test will confirm it: Anya's schtick ain't no con's play.
I'll stomp on you until you're shattered; Heartlessly so, like Kanye!
I took flight from the Communist curse once upon a July, but I'll steadfastly see through this fight,
Letting loose haunting words to get your bodies tossing and turning in bed in the dark of the- (*Gunshot, bloody explosion*)
There; we fixed your history!
Avatar: You're welcome, now; no need for thanks.
Bakshi: That movie might as well have told the happy story of Anne Frank!
Fritz: What kind of hypocrite would make that, then call out my not being dead?
Bakshi: Honestly, why couldn't you have stuck with shitty kiddie schlock instead?
I mean… The Pebble and the Penguin?
Avatar: Truth be told, it made me laugh…
Bakshi: A Troll in Central Park?
Fritz: Heh, real fucking intellectual…
Bakshi: Lying about the tragic execution of a seventeen-year-old girl?
Fritz, Avatar: Detestable!
Bakshi: To net your biggest profit, you sold out in terms of heart;
Rasputin never crossed the Romanovs, but you betrayed your art!
Now, Holli Would come out to play if she were needed, but in truth,
Enough's been said, so face the facts: you're our announcer's husband, Bluth!
MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!