Epic Rap Battles of History - Stephen King Vs. Edgar Allan Poe lyrics

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Epic Rap Battles of History - Stephen King Vs. Edgar Allan Poe lyrics

Edgar Allan Poe Once upon a midnight dreary, as I spit this weak and weary I will choke this joker with a trochee till his cheeks are teary But y'all don't hear me, all should fear me I'll forever be better, you'll never be near me Your books are as eerie as Beverly Cleary You're a faux Bram Stoker, so scram, the show's over Your flow's so-so, Poe's poems pwn posers (Oh snap) I wrote them locked in a cave, while I sobbed in a rage The Tell-Tale Heart beats soft in its grave While this jerk just beats off on a page Stephen King Oh, you wanna talk shop, you gothed-out fop? Go back to Hot Topic and shop for a top There's a melancholy alcoholic laughingstock In the King's house, now watch the Castle Rock Pouty little poet with an opiate affliction I'm a workaholic with a fiction addiction I'm making dedicated readers shivery and jittery, feel that Rage and Misery You better start Running Man, you're in deep poo, Poe I'm a mad dog, fangs Shining, Cujo Tommyknock you down till you can't Stand up You're as soft as Po, the Kung Fu Panda Racks on racks 'cause I pen fat stacks of frightening writing, have you seen the pile? I can even take a break from my routine style Crank out a Shawshank or a Green Mile Masque of the Red d**h? Barely blood curdling Pit and the Pendulum? Not even unnerving Perving on your first cousin when she's thirteen years old? Now that's disturbing Edgar Allan Poe Stephen, you pretend to do it, I've been really living through it Misery and poverty and family woes I see through you like pantyhose, doing Chappelle and Simpsons cameos Even if you're gripping on a weapon then you better get to stepping If you're messing with the horror lord In a minute maybe I'mma hit him, cut him into itty bitty bits And I'mma stick him in the floorboards Stephen King Speaking of bored, you're the worst Dropped out of school but you can't drop a verse I could have spent that time better In eight bars, I can write a whole best-seller I'm so prolific, this sickly goblin won't be bothering me, I'm on a clobbering spree And I'll be smacking you with any of the big thick books in my big dick bibliography See, I'm the author with the blood and gore lore galore That'll horrify a reader to the core Fame? Money? Talent? Success? You'll always have less, never more