Battlefield 1 vs. Call of Duty Infinite Warfare Rap Battle

Battlefield 1, Infinite Warfare
It’s time to prove yourselves
In lyrical combat
Proceed
Oh, you made another game with 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 gonna 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 it comes with another game
You imitate
We intimidate
We’re inundated with praise
Does it irritate?
You dream it
We been and did it, mate
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 implements 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
You’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
A Seven 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 wanna get sacked