(Battlefield 1
Infinite warfare
It's time to prove yourselves in a lyrical combat
Proceed)
Oh you made another game of space marines
What next, lightsabers and laser beams?
We're keeping it classic
Bogart
You're too busy romancing a robot
These trenches are dark
Stark
We're setting a benchmark
That sets us apart
You're set in your ways
We're setting alarms
If you dice with death
Then expect to get harmed
Our mixtape drops like mustard gas
Yours doesn't even cut the mustard
Pass
Bruv, you're going to get rushed and bashed
Crushed and thwacked
With clubs and bats
Dragged back to the bunker and slumped in a lump
Your days are numbered
Past
World war one killing further plans
You might have like Franz Ferdinand
(What you got?)
Our game
It's called COD
If you don't like it you are odd
It is such
A good game
That is comes with another game
You imitate
We intimidate
We're indundated with praise
Does it irritate?
You dream it
We been and did it, m8
We innovate
Move
You're in the way
We're infinitely bored
Of infinity ward
We saw your fans filing for a divorce
While infinite be poor
People instantly warm to this
It's indicative we're in for the awards
We predict that your income'll be falling
Like a wall
'Til it's infinitely small
See you impotently crawl
Like an infant, so be warned:
There's grown men crying at the incident report
We're indiscriminate
It is insignificant
If anyone is innocent
We're killing you
With impliments and instruments
It's no coincidence
That we're considered infamous
Your game's old
No one likes
Old stuff
Such as old bikes
With big wheels
They aren't good
Your game must be made of wood
We're killing on sight
Better hold on tight when I drop by
Godlike
I'm turning COD to a bombsite
Plus I leave a tough guy tongue tied
Fighting frostbite
Blind in the foglight
It's not the size of the dog in the fight
It's the size of the fight in the dog in the dogfight
Your're getting hit in the chin
I'm sitting and sipping a gin
Give it a minute, you'll be giving in
When I'm
Giving a kicking and killing infinity ward
So ghastly and gory
Pro patria mori
I'm a flowing Wilfred Owen
Oh, and you've just been killed with a poem
(7 nation army couldn't hold me back)
Your game sucks
Ours does not
Yours is cold
Ours is hot
Sigh ok I'll drop the act
Oh God, please stop
I don't want to get sacked
