Epic Rap Battles of Cycling

So, I've been bored waiting for Lombardia and I've cooked up an idea. During the brief time I've been on the forum I've witnessed how easily various riders' threads descend into chaos with users flaming each other to no end about trivialities. I hereby propose that we should channel those sweet insulting creative juices into a more productive venue: behold the great Epic Rap Battles of Cycling thread, where we let our favourite riders dish out the insults on our behalf amongst themselves.

To break the ice I'll post the first one: Tadej Pogačar vs Remco Evenepoel. Enjoy :p

Tadej

Ta-da! I'm Tadej, and today is the day
You'll be laying in a red pool, Evenepoel, slayed
Can't sprint away, and no help on the way
As you like to ride solo, 'cause you have no mates

Put your wolves on the leash in their den in the Ardennes
Call me your liege as I won Liège there, friend
You're king of small races, I'm rated much higher
You see, I'm UCI's first ranked rider!

When fog's on the bog Pog's got the big cog
Leapfrogging pros from prologue to epilogue
You ain't gonna stop my UAE lapdogs
With that crash in your logs now your jog is my slog

My d*ck is more thick than your beef with Van Aert
Won two GTs - you, less than Tao Hart
Remco, your cycling is like a REM cycle
'Cause you beating me is the dream of a psycho.

Remco

Yo! Launch a yolo attack on this yellow-bellied hack
From fifty k's away you will crack and fall back
Hear the thunder, I'm coming, for ears that aren't deaf
F in chat for the champ of the TDF!

Forgive me for being slow, a venial sin
I'm still gonna have your Slovenian skin
Ain't fast to the line but I'm spittin' fast lines
'Cause I'm used to disputes, both on and offline

Quick, step aside, we leave no survivors
The Wolfpack against some rich camel drivers
Who fuel your performance with stained petrodollars
(Can we please talk about clinical matters?)

Got a good Flemish flaming, must have cooked your legs
Spanking baby Teddy like the new Daddy Merckx
Aero hero, no brag, but you've been such a drag
Gotta raise the white flag - 'cause I'm heir to the Bag.
 
So, I've been bored waiting for Lombardia and I've cooked up an idea. During the brief time I've been on the forum I've witnessed how easily various riders' threads descend into chaos with users flaming each other to no end about trivialities. I hereby propose that we should channel those sweet insulting creative juices into a more productive venue: behold the great Epic Rap Battles of Cycling thread, where we let our favourite riders dish out the insults on our behalf amongst themselves.

To break the ice I'll post the first one: Tadej Pogačar vs Remco Evenepoel. Enjoy :p

Tadej

Ta-da! I'm Tadej, and today is the day
You'll be laying in a red pool, Evenepoel, slayed
Can't sprint away, and no help on the way
As you like to ride solo, 'cause you have no mates

Put your wolves on the leash in their den in the Ardennes
Call me your liege as I won Liège there, friend
You're king of small races, I'm rated much higher
You see, I'm UCI's first ranked rider!

When fog's on the bog Pog's got the big cog
Leapfrogging pros from prologue to epilogue
You ain't gonna stop my UAE lapdogs
With that crash in your logs now your jog is my slog

My d*ck is more thick than your beef with Van Aert
Won two GTs - you, less than Tao Hart
Remco, your cycling is like a REM cycle
'Cause you beating me is the dream of a psycho.

Remco

Yo! Launch a yolo attack on this yellow-bellied hack
From fifty k's away you will crack and fall back
Hear the thunder, I'm coming, for ears that aren't deaf
F in chat for the champ of the TDF!

Forgive me for being slow, a venial sin
I'm still gonna have your Slovenian skin
Ain't fast to the line but I'm spittin' fast lines
'Cause I'm used to disputes, both on and offline

Quick, step aside, we leave no survivors
The Wolfpack against some rich camel drivers
Who fuel your performance with stained petrodollars
(Can we please talk about clinical matters?)

Got a good Flemish flaming, must have cooked your legs
Spanking baby Teddy like the new Daddy Merckx
Aero hero, no brag, but you've been such a drag
Gotta raise the white flag - 'cause I'm heir to the Bag.
Did you make that up?
:hearteyes::hearteyes::hearteyes:
 
Reactions: DoYouEvenRideBruh
This is so great that I probably won't be able to write a line all day anymore, and the language is so far, far away from me, but I will listen to some stuff I usually never listen to and try to do my best... You gave me something to do!
 
So, I've been bored waiting for Lombardia and I've cooked up an idea. During the brief time I've been on the forum I've witnessed how easily various riders' threads descend into chaos with users flaming each other to no end about trivialities. I hereby propose that we should channel those sweet insulting creative juices into a more productive venue: behold the great Epic Rap Battles of Cycling thread, where we let our favourite riders dish out the insults on our behalf amongst themselves.

To break the ice I'll post the first one: Tadej Pogačar vs Remco Evenepoel. Enjoy :p

Tadej

Ta-da! I'm Tadej, and today is the day
You'll be laying in a red pool, Evenepoel, slayed
Can't sprint away, and no help on the way
As you like to ride solo, 'cause you have no mates

Put your wolves on the leash in their den in the Ardennes
Call me your liege as I won Liège there, friend
You're king of small races, I'm rated much higher
You see, I'm UCI's first ranked rider!

When fog's on the bog Pog's got the big cog
Leapfrogging pros from prologue to epilogue
You ain't gonna stop my UAE lapdogs
With that crash in your logs now your jog is my slog

My d*ck is more thick than your beef with Van Aert
Won two GTs - you, less than Tao Hart
Remco, your cycling is like a REM cycle
'Cause you beating me is the dream of a psycho.

Remco

Yo! Launch a yolo attack on this yellow-bellied hack
From fifty k's away you will crack and fall back
Hear the thunder, I'm coming, for ears that aren't deaf
F in chat for the champ of the TDF!

Forgive me for being slow, a venial sin
I'm still gonna have your Slovenian skin
Ain't fast to the line but I'm spittin' fast lines
'Cause I'm used to disputes, both on and offline

Quick, step aside, we leave no survivors
The Wolfpack against some rich camel drivers
Who fuel your performance with stained petrodollars
(Can we please talk about clinical matters?)

Got a good Flemish flaming, must have cooked your legs
Spanking baby Teddy like the new Daddy Merckx
Aero hero, no brag, but you've been such a drag
Gotta raise the white flag - 'cause I'm heir to the Bag.
Great work mate.

We need Vincenzo vs Roglic. Something about the trophy cabinet...
 
This is a thread for the ages.

I'ma give it a go, but it's like remixing a recent classic, and whiffs on the bag reference.

Da Mystery of Teambriefin'

UNZ

Raw, I'm gon' give it ya, with no trivia
Raw like an espoir signed from Bolivia
I assign him to Lizarte, my shorty's set-up
Pass the class, he'll get the blue M get-up
Then I'm gonna bring ya through slow (slow!)
No interrupting my tactical flow
From my three headed trident, I'm leader of the friars
You best watch ya wheels 'cos I be spittin' straight fire!

Ol' Dirty Brailsford
Yo! Hut 1, hut 2, hut 3, hut!
It's straight-talkin' Brailsford, live and uncut
My style's like a corporate photoshoot dream
And I sign the best kids with my infinite cream

(cash rules everything around me, cream, get the money, dollar dollar bill y'all)

I steal from the poor because I gotta get rich
Or send my hitman Luke Rowe to leave 'em lain in the ditch
Til they agree to join my unstoppable train
Cos blastin' punks like you is still a marginal gain!

UNZ
Now hold up, kid, no need to flash ya cash
Til you can fix Geraint Thomas' chronic case of road rash
I been here for forty years, let me give ya'n education
The thing that matters most is the TEAMS CLASSIFICATION!

Ol' Dirty Brailsford
What's the matter, can't handle goin' for the win?
Have you sucker DSes lost before you begin?
So let's hold it right there, let's just rewind that back
My boys can even win Grand Tours eight years after the fact!

UNZ
When I steal a GT don't wait years, I do it right after
And not thanks to inhalers who don't even got asthma

The Madiot Man
M-A-D-I-O-T Maaaan
M-A-D-I-O-T Maaaan
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, the Madiot Man
Here to interject the best that I can
UNZ, I uphold tradition, don't you doubt it
ODB, I don't put out a press release about it
I'm here to remind you about TUEs
You wanna talk about '06? Come on, dawg, please
We all know Pereiro was huffin'em, too
But don't look so smug, Dave, we all know all about you!

Ol' Dirty Brailsford
Siddown, Marc, I'll make it worth your while
You French are always talkin' 'bout dissin' my style
But in the time you been talkin' bout GTs, I won nine
You ain't gettin' yours and you ain't gettin' mine!

The Madiot Man
At least I'm there to support my freaks
While you're hidin' from the media the whole three weeks
Cowerin' in fear from my man, Thibaut Pinot
The scariest Frenchman since Bernard Hinault!

UNZ
Oh, come on, Madiot Man, don't kid yourself please
You think Egan Bernal's scared of Tibby-o P?

(Who down with Thibaut P? Yeah you know me! You down with Thibaut P? Every last homie!)

ODB's guys even gained when they got off and ran
You need to get a friendly neighborhood SU-PER-MAN!

V-no
No chance, Eusebio, there's no turnin' back
Superman comes blastin' with relentless attack
For all the power you wield, you couldn't handle the man
He was made for glory of nation of Kazakhstan!

Ol' Dirty Brailsford, UNZ, The Madiot Man
VINO CORLEONE? I thought he was dead?

V-no
No, I just played that way so I could mess with ya heads
With the favour for my flavour I slip through like an eel
And I guess you could say, Yana couldn't Seel the deal
So now I'm back like a vertebrae, to return to the car
So I can show you the flow of a genuine star!

Patrick LeFlava
To get a real freestyle you gotta head to the streets
Down in Belgium where they're all made up of cobbles and concrete
We're all talkin' Remco but make sure you don't sleep
On my secret MC weapon, Julien Alaphilippe
I assembled my Wolfpack for world domination
And defending the honour of the Flandrian nation
And I even got a magic trick that none of y'all have
I'm even capable of winning with Marky Mark Cav!

Ol' Dirty Brailsford
Don't take pride in the aged, it's a sport not a charity
And here's the kinda thing that just shows the disparity
Tradition is dead, UNZ, that's right you heard me
Don't sacrifice youth to keep the bones of Valverde
And Vino may be hustlin' hard to bring back the Shark
Whose last Grand Tour had a Grand Départ aboard Noah's Ark
You gotta move with the times, you suckers stuck in old skool
While I even palmed Chris Froome off on some gullible fool!

Sylvain Adams
:(
 
Oof, this is so tough. I thought the language was the worst, but the rhythm is worse. Anyway, it's awfully fun and this is my try, which I'm dedicating to Koronin. :kissingheart:

Alaphilippe

Look at me, I call the shots, here I am, it is Ala,
yeah that's right, MC, hardcore, no don't care 'bout your abuela,
so go down, bow out, move over, I'm the new Bala,
such a swerve rider, mur beater, French lover, champ winner,
oh that's right, crazy rider, heart-breaker, stole a spouse in the house
while you're lookin', yeah so what, I'm no sinner.

All ye oldies, new stompers, all ye bots,
no my ass it ain't big, but I got all the watts in the quads
gonna get you, gonna beat ye, too easy
Ale-jandro, like Gaga, just some rider, too cheesy.
Show respect, to the show-man, so true, to the greatest,
think you're BigBoi, sprint in line,
you're so washed up, I sprint the straightest.

As a kid, once a drummer in the summer,
now worlds-beater, got the sticks in my hand, and it's heatin',
I'm revivin old riding while you cannot take the beatin'.
I'm a wolf, I wear stripes, I bring the message to ye shooters,
just get out of my way all ye scooters.

You're an old man, won in Innsbruck, so who cares grandaddy,
yeah, all haters you keep yellin, in this story I'm the baddy,
so what, I am badass, I am doin', call the butcher
you all know, mr nice guy, guttapercha, I'm no watcher.
See I'm no clown in this town with a frown, what you're thinkin'
'stead I go, I will wow, make it real on the road
suckers can't do nothin' when it happens, I explode, then reload,
oh yeah look, I am gritty in Huy city, while you fail, such a piti.

I got hair on my head and you're old like Siddhartha
think you're singing while you're winning like Sinatra
So don't call me chouchou, I'm in the middle,
see that's first place, no third, no second fiddle,
but you can sit at my side while I'm givin' you the ride
pass you here, in Wallonie, in LBL, one day
come what may, I have two, yeah, look at this, how many times
if you count, that's right, one ain't two,
yeah, Alejandro, old man, that joke's on you.
Stops, hesitates, blinks to the fans, adds shyly: I'm Loulou.


Valverde

The new Bala, what a clown, what a chipmunk
got the fans, got the big mouth, but no funk
this is Valve, this is me, the real piti,
on the streets, in your hearts
the real Bala, the real diddy.

Yeah, you should know age ain't nothin but a number, baby,
could be I'm the best, ever, or forever, the Spanish Merckx, just maybe.
So if I lose my hair I'm still doin' it with style,
I've come here to stay, trust no digit, trust no file.

LBL and the worlds, took it from you, you sprout
ye pretender, copycat, impersonator without a doubt
know, those french spoken arrows are mine all along,
yeah, I'll whip you like your papi if you give me a thong,
got that right, Frenchy, I'm your daddy,
yesterday, to-day, to-morrow, I'm ready,
while you're busy cuttin your 'stache I'm still chillin', I'm just jumpin', pure pumpin'
on my muritos, no deal, while I'm sipping my mojitos.

So I'm mr nice guy from Murcia, they'll remember my good name
when you're done, on the couch, on the cemetery in the frame.
I got my own pack already, don't even need no more stripes,
cause whatever I am sayin' all the movies oblige,
they are my team, they are rollin, while I'm still going full-steam.

The Tour got nothin' on me, no, Vuelta's the real deal,
best GT, you can sign that with a seal,
and if one thinks he's a stomper, I invented the stomp
stomped your mummy, your papi and the gran-gran-nannies
but without all that pomp.

Jules, you're a showboat, no rider, too much acid, just a fassade
Alejandro needs no beard, no Lefevere, no hair, I'm just me,
what you see is what you get, b**, so go home, aujour'dhui,
no fool' around, you gotta ride like it's real, small bala, mini-me.

Chouchous and stompers of today can stay in line
and when I win again they can quarrel, do the whine,
to all ye clowns I'm a legend,
I'll still showin' you the edge and
even if you try to shake it, shake your hip
changes nothin', you are nothin but a slip
tryna do 'jandro like you're Lance or what
Koronin knows I'm the original anti-bot,
Spanish hero, con una sonrisa, your matador: in the ring since '02,
so take this, small-town rider, French lulu,
Yeah real long ago that I stepped on the scene
but I'm still winnin' and you just can't intervene.
Over his shoulder, smiling knowingly while contemptuously walking away: No eres nadie.
 
P - R - I - M - O to the Z
Cycling equivalent Muhammad Ali
Float like a butterfly, stomp like a-me
If you think i'm looking pale, adjust your TV.

Born in 89, Chuck D rappin' fine
Fight the power that's me? That's simply asinine.
Ladies Love Cool P, be standin' in line
(And cute baby Pog is a backstabbin' swine) :eek:
What's so cool about a stomp, man?
Gotta do the right descent, man,
gotta blow you out proportions
gotta blow you down the line.

Have you ever won a race, man,
real race, talking Giro, in the bag, man,
no you never won that trophy
just three Vueltas, noone cares, boy,
goin' all for glory in Italia
in the spring, dude. For my missus, for my kid, for my glory
home in bed, for ma glory in da books,
think the ladies like your looks, hu?

I will take you home with me,
Primoz sucker you will see
that you ain't won nothin' yet,
watch my trophy cabinet.
 
So, I've been bored waiting for Lombardia and I've cooked up an idea. During the brief time I've been on the forum I've witnessed how easily various riders' threads descend into chaos with users flaming each other to no end about trivialities. I hereby propose that we should channel those sweet insulting creative juices into a more productive venue: behold the great Epic Rap Battles of Cycling thread, where we let our favourite riders dish out the insults on our behalf amongst themselves.

To break the ice I'll post the first one: Tadej Pogačar vs Remco Evenepoel. Enjoy :p

Tadej

Ta-da! I'm Tadej, and today is the day
You'll be laying in a red pool, Evenepoel, slayed
Can't sprint away, and no help on the way
As you like to ride solo, 'cause you have no mates

Put your wolves on the leash in their den in the Ardennes
Call me your liege as I won Liège there, friend
You're king of small races, I'm rated much higher
You see, I'm UCI's first ranked rider!

When fog's on the bog Pog's got the big cog
Leapfrogging pros from prologue to epilogue
You ain't gonna stop my UAE lapdogs
With that crash in your logs now your jog is my slog

My d*ck is more thick than your beef with Van Aert
Won two GTs - you, less than Tao Hart
Remco, your cycling is like a REM cycle
'Cause you beating me is the dream of a psycho.

Remco

Yo! Launch a yolo attack on this yellow-bellied hack
From fifty k's away you will crack and fall back
Hear the thunder, I'm coming, for ears that aren't deaf
F in chat for the champ of the TDF!

Forgive me for being slow, a venial sin
I'm still gonna have your Slovenian skin
Ain't fast to the line but I'm spittin' fast lines
'Cause I'm used to disputes, both on and offline

Quick, step aside, we leave no survivors
The Wolfpack against some rich camel drivers
Who fuel your performance with stained petrodollars
(Can we please talk about clinical matters?)

Got a good Flemish flaming, must have cooked your legs
Spanking baby Teddy like the new Daddy Merckx
Aero hero, no brag, but you've been such a drag
Gotta raise the white flag - 'cause I'm heir to the Bag.
What colour MnM are you?
 
Okay, we probably need to have the obvious one too between the crossers. And I did once get a top grade in high school for writing a sonnet about the Premier League, so I should be able to pull it off.

MVP
I'm a man of three bikes, possibly four
A bit of evening training; a TT I'll score
Crossin' is my favourite, it's almost too easy
Just an hour's work; the Belgians cry weekly
Sand, mud or runnin', Wout can only try
At least outside the World's, he hangs to dry
But four rainbow jerseys, he only got three
I'll eat my French fries while he can drink some tea

Second's in my genes - my grandpa is Poupou
But I'm breakin' that curse, just ask Loulou
He still got a scar after being stomped in Siena
And on my second try, almost a beginner
The cobbles of Roubaix are my newest playground
Wout, Sonny, Lampaert, they only rode around
Not flexin' muscles, thinkin' like a sprinter
That sh*t's beneath me, you gotta have some grinta
In De Ronde of October, I made a quiet country quieter
Loulou crashed around, and Wout met his proprietor
With Tim, Dries and Jasper, along with Gianni V
The others team can suck it, cause the most well-kept hair have we

Olympics are the bomb and for those I switch my bike
Over roots, planks and boulders I take a summer hike
Me and Lil' Tom set the sport ablaze
While I can get support by my mate Sam Gaze
Nino prolly hates us; we make his sport look lame
But he can cry a river; to me it's all a game
If there's a number on my back and we by the flag have been set free
You know I'll give you hell; after all, I'm MVP

Wout
Yo, yo, you can brag about the dirt rides all you will
But they ain't givin' spectators no thrill
You know there's one true venue above all others
It's on the road! Mountainbike you say? Who bothers?
My name's Wout, not Poels but Van Aert
I'm Belgium's new classics king, succesor to Van Avermaet
In Leuven I was facing Julian, Mathieu and Co
But who can blame me for losin' with the antics of Remco
We never said he could do whatever to him would please
For next year we gotta buy a leash

Sprintin', time trialin', climbin', cobblin', you name it
As long as I've tyres, it wouldn't trouble me the least bit
In the Tour de France I made an awesome hattrick
Which excited everybody, even Remco's boss, Patrick
Eddy! Eddy! They all say that he's the new Eddy!
If that one's taken, instead I'll just be the new Freddy
20 Grand Tour stages in a month's time
Should be possible, if I was from a dif'rent time
Now it's tough, I'd have to win them all in one
Miss two stages, and the chance is gone
I also have to help my buddy Primoz, but
I can still try to colour my jersey both green and polkadot

And in the spring I'll have to bash Mathieu
But also QuickStep, Ineos and FDJeux
I need to win De Ronde and Roubaix
Maybe then they'll build me a palais
Big enough to stash my silverware
Perhaps also my lock of golden hair
I'll make all the Dutch and Danes and Frenchmen pout
And cry at the sound of the name of Wout!

Wout out!
 
Yo, Paddy, it's me Sammy B.,
you might attempt to withhold my fee and to throw pee over me,
but patience is key, now I'm breaking free,
cause unlike old man Cav I don't need your Belgian charity

You might think that going back to BORA is just me sinking lower,
but I got my lucky clover, and I'll be Denk's top dawg now his sexless marriage with Sagan is over

So you can bring Fabio, Mørkøv, Hodeg or the golden boy, who behaves like a teen,
but their butts will all be red in Paris, while I'm wearing green

MIC DROP!
 
I thought I had a flair for the poetic, but this? This is something else entirely! :joycat:
I know. Wow. Is anyone even going to watch Lombardia now?!

I'll probably return later and get high with Libertine Seguros' director spliff's (Dave really would have such arrogance to spit like that, even though he isn't really enough of a dawg) whilst admiring Blue Roads' Valverde's ability to go after more than just one rider (that stomp section was steep).

Hey Redhead, do you want to go to the dot thread with me to converse like normal people? :)
 
Yo, Paddy, it's me Sammy B.,
you might attempt to withhold my fee and to throw pee over me,
but patience is key, now I'm breaking free,
cause unlike old man Cav I don't need your Belgian charity

You might think that going back to BORA is just me sinking lower,
but I got my lucky clover, and I'll be Denk's top dawg now his sexless marriage with Sagan is over

So you can bring Fabio, Mørkøv, Hodeg or the golden boy, who behaves like a teen,
but their butts will all be red in Paris, while I'm wearing green

MIC DROP!

Small Ben-nett, I thought you were dumb and mute, I guess your rhymes are kind of cute, but like with any other I'm going to win this dispute
If you think you can beat me, it ain't gonna work, now don't be a jerk, cause I know you'll choke harder than Tim Declercq
I'm an unbreakable force, I'll get Asgreen to ride over you on a horse, leaving you breathless so you'll runaway like The Corrs

If you want to be a champion you can't be sweet like honey or weak like a bunny, cause then you'll just end up losing to Sonny,
and unlike you if I ever decide to do business with women, I'm the one making money

Soon you'll come back on your "bad" knee beggin', cause I turn dirt into gold, I mean just look at what I did with friggin' Fausto the second
Then I'll be the one to not return any calls, and as a joke I might make a winning machine out of Matthew Walls,
you'll puke again while your eyes will get as wet as Niagara Falls,
cause a baby like you will never be able to handle my balls!
 
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