George Washington vs William Wallace

George Washington versus William Wallace, begin

There's a difference between you and me, Willy
I fought 'til I was actually free, Willy
I got my face on a quarter
You got drawn and quartered
Tortured on the orders of a king, really?
How'd you get beat by a dude named Longshanks?
You hot dogged and he cut off your bean franks
I'm money like a National Bank

Ain't nobody more street than Big G
Stone face with a grill of sheep teeth!
A Mel Gibson movie is your legacy (ah!)
I got a state and a day and a DC
(Stroke!) Roll up in a boat
(Stroke!) You're sleeping cut your throat
(Stroke!) I watch the blood flow, now who's got that red coat?

Look at ya in your little blousy outfit
Looking like a stiffer white dick than your monument
I'll knock you the fuck out, mate, you died owning slaves, I died setting men free (scot-free!)
That's the Highland way, this powdered prick couldn't beat me in a foot race
I was emasculated, eviscerated, I had my head chopped off and they put it on a pike
And I still find time to bust a Gaelic rhyme
And rip your Yankee Doodle arse on the mic

I'll knock your face off your moola, Alba gu brah (gu-rah! Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah!)
Founding father but no children
Crossed the Delaware, but your soldiers can't swim
That's Washington, such a shit tactician
The fucking British Army didn't even want him
I'm Wallace! (Woo) And I'm flawless! (Woo)
Stay hid in your office or suffer great losses
I pop my kilt, strap my sword on my hilt, step on the battlefield and I'm ready to kill
Send all you politicians straight down to hell
The only Washington I trust is Denzel

Is that the best you got for me?
I chop down an emcee like a cherry tree
See, power! That's what the meaning of my flag is
Your nation's famous for golf and haggis
I'm fabulous, from my head to my shoebuckle
Step to me, and catch a knee to the moose knuckle
'Cause I know you don't wear no draws
I'm dressed like a pimp, best moves at the ball
MacGlavin, McGliven, McSchool you all
Cock block more Scots than Hadrian's Wall

I don't give a shit 'bout your fancy clothes
You whipped all of those out of slave black folks
Grew weed then you made hemp rope
But if ya think you'll beat me, ya must be having a smoke
No joke! Don't tee off with me, laddy
If you held my balls, you couldn't be my caddy
My style's ice-cold, yours is old and shabby
You're the father of your country, but I'm your daddy

Who won? Who's next? You decide



Credits
Writer(s): Peter Shukoff, Lloyd Leonard Ahlquist, Dante Michael Cimadamore
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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