AUDIO (SoundCloud): /molemanninethousand/molemans-epic-rap-battles-44-jimmy-neutron-vs-dexter
VIDEO: (Coming soon!)
MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!
…How about you cut it there, and do as Aaron Carter put it:
Leave it up to me to show the world just how I beat this carrot-topped kid,
With the hyper-stunted growth and accent screaming "I'm adopted!"
While you live behind a front, what I present is far from feigning,
And I'll show it sevenfold here, no one crying Fowl nor complaining!
3D's rising to preeminence saw me play an essential role,
While it's being generous to even call you two-dimensional;
My words will haunt your dreams 'til you can't speak but to repeat them,
While as for eggs from afar, I over-easily defeat them!
You're a lifelong Ego-Tripper, like Sheen's brain gone ultra-bloated,
With a dumb ass full of hot air; best believe that I'll explode it:
Push your buttons, and I'll make you pay, like Dee Dee's sub-in bitch.
I'll hit a home run with your noggin; call me T.V. Puppet Mitch!
Your Koos is cooked; try and attack with some alleged brilliant plan,
And get the axe still harder than your missiles visiting Japan!
A six-year-old got hired by your management to pen an ep?
Your typical scriptwriters might as well have handed them the rest.
I gaze upon your works, and scoff with triple-to-quintuple "HA!"s;
Lay down trash-talk as heinous as your little Rude-Removal was,
So like the man behind your wack doujinshi tales, prepare to Bleed,
But you can spare Einstein your moping: failure here was guaranteed!
I've heard your I.Q.'s off the charts, but have they checked your mental state;
Addressing people who aren't present? I mean, I, for one, relate,
But if this bout being with a Cartoon Network kid was your impression,
You're on some kind of narcotic, and so hear out my confession:
Your inventiveness-effectiveness extends not to perceptiveness;
The evidence: you entered this and went expecting tepidness,
Instead of which, you'll fend against this vigilante nemesis!
The title, to be fair, was vague; dare I say: ambiDexterous.
You'll find no monkey business with this scourge on vile men,
For my forte's an altogether other cause to Dial M.
Consider this a warning, Jimbo: you should go into this knowing
That the Nick logo will be far from the only splatter showing.
Think you'll know no harsher hazards than your baddest clone's dimension?
My world holds still-darker matters; enter at your own discretion.
For those I delete, retrieval simply isn't in the question,
Though the errors that earn my ire exceed just any imperfection.
Get back where you need to be, like timeline-truant Thomas Edison,
Before I slap you silly as your student body president;
Your metal mutt should know: my measured methods of malevolence
Are honed to extreme altitudes of evil-ending excellence.
Though I've perhaps miscalculated, my mistake's no stumping one;
Don't give me flak for targeting the wrong guy here and jumping guns:
Because you'd know well all about that from your model-killer case,
Plus from the shot Deb should have fired off, full-throttle, in your face!
You hid in plain sight from the Double-M.P.D.; evaded crews of men?
Get Dave Caruso on the force, and see if they'll get fooled again.
I'd spell out why it isn't right to kill another man,
But clearly, there's no point explaining: psychos just don't understand!
Shitloads of sheeting set the stages for my killings' consummations,
But I've never seen plasticity quite like your animation's!
You're a sitting duck out here, and though your dad could lend protection,
Other such birds have been deemed as worthier of his attention!
A dark passenger's stowed up in your amusement park armada,
As fixated on rein-taking as your best friend on his llamas,
Not to mention on your mama! I'm this track's true driving force:
A bloody boss at cruelly cutting creeps and stacking slides in scores!
You're packing filler raps, bereft of charge; guess that explains the name,
But this verse won't be butchered by the baddies of Bay Harbor's bane.
Their lot fought not; got caught with shots of knockout medicine to necks,
But when it comes to battles' beats, adrenaline's what I inject!
The comic you inspired got you fantasizing hero-scenes,
But here's a verse you couldn't defend from if you tried in your own dreams:
Prepare to eat your scary words; I'm not intimidated, mister!
They'll prove bitterer to swallow than "I will not kill my sister",
While as far as pulling plugs go, you've my personal assurance
That once you're in the electric chair, there'll be no such occurrence:
Currents surging while you curse my name; a showing truly shocking,
With the only sponge involved among my Nicktoon homies, watching!
I'm not buying your salesbots, Wrong Trousers and space-transmission toasters;
Watch me dice and ice them all, though I'm the way less vicious Moser,
Who'll command genuine genius in the name of Harry; knock a poser!
Yours falls flat as your own graphics in a Fairly Odd crossover,
Where your wish of winning this would still elude attaining!
Claiming my Doomsday is nigh? You're blatantly hallucinating:
While my psyche holds a presence people see as quite demonic,
Yours is on some other planet even Sheen would find moronic!
If you're in the logging business now, then note this in your records:
Jimmy's jabs could fill a novel; Diligently Dissing Dexter.
Your delivery's off-key enough to turn a Twonkie peaceful;
Straying as far from proper rhythm as Showtime from Lindsay's sequels!
Your disastrous endgame saw you abscond off on your boat;
Calamitous could finish up a series on a stronger note,
As when the viewing public's tears gave way to smiles one week later,
And I'll break you even worse still, leaving half your face a crater!
What a fitting reference, seeing as it's apparent you're on meth;
Your love interest's a C.G. Helga, sans developmental depth!
Like when the P.T.C. got pissed and pushed for prudish editing,
I'll set more triggers off with this than your Bond bootleg's wedding ring:
You think your disses deeply-cutting? I don't feel the slightest twinging;
Mine will shatter all you know in spite of Hugh's space-opera-binging,
For at flesh and flows alike, I peak-perform precise stab takings,
As perfected in the practice as the "candy" your lab's baking.
My sick spitting's like the written form of pi: it's endless, man;
The worst besmirching of your image since your real-life biggest fan!
I'll leave you Six Feet Under; torn asunder, making fatal wounds,
And spilling sodium chloride into them by the tablespoon!
You've run on more than long enough; it's high time science cut you down,
And as with barrels of sea monkeys, there'll be silence once you drown!
A crackpot code can curb compulsions, but the truth is that you ought to
Follow daddy's lead from when he saw the fruits of what he'd taught you.
On suspicion he's a huffer of perfumed megalomania,
My mission's making this brat suffer; cue Megalovania.
I'll show you how a truly bad time looks seen way up-close:
So zoomed-in as to render routines that start every day off gross!
It hardly takes brain surgery to pick apart just what your mind holds,
Blinded to the fact your "science" is inclined to backfire fivefold,
While my tried, true tactics show my skill within the spilling-blood trade,
Taking out the competition like McSpanky's with your upgrades,
And you'll thank me one day soon, when, notwithstanding your shenanigans,
Your town's left slightly safer, with its kids' preferred establishment
Under new management, although the time for that comes later,
So for now, doc, stick to fear and keep your calmness at a nadir.
For my future-forays' flaming, you're in no position here
When the best thing you ever did for those you love was disappear!
While my screenwriting venture was a total bust, to state the obvious,
That you won't see this battle's Final Cut is my hypothesis:
I'll not let yours be put to practice; fuck you up preemptively,
The way you wish you'd done in that sick schmuck who struck in sets of three!
Just ask my other foes about the cost of crossing me, Dex,
Once I blast you all the way back to the era of the T. rex!
This foul ogre won't upstage me: it's no first-time animation Oscar!
Think I can't be mercilessly spiteful? See "Hall Monster".
Watch me scorch him like the scapegoat of his worst crimes by his crazy sponsor;
Shrink-ray-zap the worth of iffy Michael C. Hall monsters.
This last round's the round it happens, and I'll not say this again:
This rocket-boy'd best run away, avoiding witnessing a slaughter.
Stay and watch, and I'll take up your wack remote, play it again,
And keep until my point's acknowledged, and yours left dead in the water
With the local piece of human garbage I'll likewise be taking out;
A freakish, putrid arse of which you'll recognize the face, no doubt!
Jimmy Neutron: Who in my life could be deemed to deserve such dreadful killing?!
Dexter Morgan: It turns out the candy man can, 'cause he murdered several children,
So don't make me say this thrice, fat fuck: come to and face the music!
Sam: Ugh… I'm pressing charges; yeah!
Dexter Morgan: Forget a courtroom case; just sue this! (*STAB!*)
Jimmy Neutron: I'm gonna puke…
Dexter Morgan: Its usage leaves you traumatized, my knife,
But that's just one more normal day for me; another Slice of Life!
Sci-fi defines yours, with spoofs on The Fly, like hamster body-swaps,
So take an icon's word on why this fight's unwise: ask Robocop!
You're messing with aggression darker than your cheesiest of horror stories;
Simply put: you've gotta blast off out of my laboratory.
James Doakes: April Fools', motherfucker!
…EPIC RAP BATTLES!