Part 1: That Escalated Swiftly...

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MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!!!!!!!

SCOTT PILGRIM...

...VS...

...TAYLOR SWIFT!!!!!!!

BEGIN!

• Scott Pilgrim: •

One, two, three, four! Yo, welcome to Toronto, land of mystery:

It's not the York you've sung about, and one far cry from Tennessee!

I'm rated "A" for "Awesome"; I'd rate you about a five-point-two:

"Too many teardrops from your whining", says my IGN review.

I feel I've loathed you for a thousand years; call me your biggest hater,

And the frigid words I spit: the bitterest Cornetto flavor!

Yeah, I've heard your fans: the kids all claiming you're the next Madonna,

But I've seen your latest vids, and girl, you're snorting marijuana!

You're a Naga, looking like the spawn of some LaVeyan coven;

Sampled "I'm Too Sexy", yet won't even show your belly button!

Your love life is a Catastrophe; you've got some major baggage,

'Cause you're not well in the head: the brain inside is surely damaged!

Mere band-aids won't fix the holes I'll leave as I tear you asunder,

Swiftly putting your whole "Gorgeous" Reputation six feet under!

Hitting hard as solid Mithril, I was born with rap-proficiency;

Insulting you's like garlic bread: I could go at it endlessly!

• Taylor Swift: •

You're on the track with a goddess; better show some respect.

They say Sparks Fly whenever I'm upset...

This is my M.E.R.B. monologue, where I'll be speaking bluntly:

My sharp lyrics cutting deep like Knives, I'll fell your freaking Plumtree!

Well, I'm going after you for hella more than just a buck, man,

And keep your useless gaming trivia; I don't give a Puck, Man!

You hit it big with hipsters; all the lonely Starbucks-lovers,

But your movie Sex Bob-ombed, with Super-bad box office numbers!

Ask a certain other Scot whose talent everybody came here for;

Taking full ownership of this sick beat, I'm striking major chords!

You'd best know you're in trouble when I dubstep on the stage:

Inducing Infinite Sadness, I'll lock this rat up in a cage!

You're no true man, Scott; you're a rotten Apple: one I protest openly.

Attack me all you want; the drama only fuels my poetry!

Your Precious Little Life story looks set for a tragic turn,

Because to me, the whole damn thing's just six lame picture-books to burn!

Roasting this prick was Red-hot fire on my part; I keep the pressure,

Making sure that you can never, ever get it back together... like, ever!

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