Talk:Gordon Ramsay vs Julia Child/@comment-5660191-20160516194922

Here's my best guess at the lyrics (I didn't do this from scratch; I took someone else's and added corrections):

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!

GORDON RAMSAY!

VS!

JULIA CHILD!

BEGIN!

Gordon Ramsay:

And that's how you make a perfect risotto

Right, Mrs. Child, welcome to the grown-ups table

I've got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful

Cause I'm in the fucking league with all these shows to pitch

I keep my ovens preheated and my pilots green-lit

I'm a seasoned skillet, you're a pam-spray pan

I've got Michelin stars, you're like the Michelin Man

I'm rolling in dough like beef wellington from hors d'oeuvres

And I'm shitting on you like I'm wack flows intolerant

Julia Child:

Oh, isn't that a wonderful thing?

A grumpy little chef who thinks he can bring

Enough salt to justify getting rough

With the butter-loving queen of the bourginon boeuf

I rock hard as concrete on top of these bomb beats

Been choppin' the pommes frites since you sucked on your mom's teats

I served America dutifully, and I sliced lard beautifully

I reigned supreme from shark repellent to charcuterie

Go on and cross your arms in that B-boy stance

When it comes to hot cuisine, there's one F-word: France

Here's a nice amuse bouche, take a poor abused youth

Set a 30 year timer, voila! Huge douche!

You're a namby-pamby candy-assed pansy, Gordon Ramsay

You couldn't rap your way out of a pastry bag, understand me?

I laugh and create, you berate and destroy

But fear, my dear boy, is less fun, just enjoy

Gordon Ramsay:

I'm glad that you got that off your giant, flabby chest

I'd call you Donkey but you look more like Shrek

When the Iron Man chef busts a rhyme

I'll open up on you like a fine red wine

I'm a culinary innovator, you're no creator

Regurgitating French plates like a glorified translator

I'm fresh, you're past your expiration date

Alright, fuck it, blue team, drop the bouilla plate (yes, chef!)

I'm seen your little show and it sure ain't pretty

One part Big Bird, two parts Miss Piggy

You can't test me with your fatty recipes

Call your book "Mastering the Art of Heart Disease"

I mean, it's rubbish, (yes, chef!) look at page 408

Tell me, who the fuck (yes, chef!) would have lent a cook calf brains

You call these croissant? (no, chef!) They're stale and soft

Now, here, take this jacket…

Now give it back and fuck off!

Julia Child:

Oh please, your defeat's guaranteed

Concede, I've got this in the bag, sous-vide (ha!)

Michelin indeed, you've done well for yourself

But as a person, you couldn't get a star on Yelp

I could freeze a steak with those frosted tips

What's with that bitter taste in every word from your lips?

You scream at women, while the fits that you're pitching

Make you the pissiest bitch in the kitchen

I'll pat you on the head, melt you, and stick it to ya

Anything's good with enough butter, boo-yah!

Oh, I'm so glad you spent this time with me

Now eat a dick, bon appétit

WHO WON?

WHO’S NEXT?

YOU DECIDE!

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!