Super Bowl Rap Battle: Drew Brees Vs. Peyton Manning

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PEYTON MANNING: VERSE 1
Naptown, stand up! You are now speaking with the horseman
Of apocalyptic gifts and unlimited endorsements
Which means I'm already so caked up I don't need these accolades
Except makin' you say "Who dat?" when your back gets sprayed
Once that bell goes off, it's the sound of your silence ending
I got four MVPs, but now there's more violence pending
With all that Cajun talk you rock, you ain't no fuckin' Jacques Chirac
So I'll just let my man Garçon serve you up a platter of coq
The Post-Katrina saviors, 'bout as useful as a FEMA trailer,
I could sit out three quarters, and just let my D impale ya
I mean, Harrison might be gone, but we still packin' lethal weapons—
Like when Freeney and Mathis introduce themselves to your midsection
And don't say you'll plug the holes, son, we know what you do with those, dunn:
First you get the Shockey Shocker then get taken deep by Colston,
Then there's Bush and Gay—nah, forget it, I'm just talkin' reckless,
So forget the Super Bowl ring, just put on this pearl necklace...

DREW BREES: VERSE 2
You think you'll carve us up, but no, Darren's Sharper
Your chances are slimmer than the corpse of Karen Carpenter
Saints sticking a fork in you, and I'll get Garçon
To bring me the utensil to put my private parts on
Going against the Saints—blasphemy
We're gonna ho you out like Baby does at Cash Money
And as for me, son, I'm the tightest
But your corny white ass thinks you're Johnny Unitas
Nah, see, in your future, there ain't no partying
Only rectal sutures when the Saints go marching in
Spanks at Archie's hand never left you this welted
'Cause the whole Colts team is about get gelded
And since wifey needs a stallion, she oughtta divorce you
Take this rod fit for Horseshoes and quarts of my horse goo
Yeah, she'll feel the Brees when I'm put out to stud
How could she not when I pull a foot out that slut?

PEYTON MANNING: VERSE 2
C'mon B, I'll just slip you some E and make you my Breezy
Come to the Yayo and we'll hang an O on you like Young Jeezy
My squad's as thick as my playbook, you can't peep the way we do it—
I'd tell you to save face, but that birthmark beat me to it!
So forget the game tape, just to stand a chance with me
You need to let Young Pey-Pey help you with your only strategy:
First off, y'all CBs slower than Portishead deep cuts,
So I suggest y'all cover-2 and slob on both deez nuts;
Might as well create some holes for Bush to run through, k?
'Cause we all know what you mean when you call out "Ray-J!"
How you gonna take the weight? You allergic to wheat and gluten!
Soon as we take the field, you runnin' 'round like "oooooh, they shootin'!"
Man, this ain't even a contest, it's not worth a stupid poem,
We'll settle this on neutral ground, but you'll still give us Superdome
You shittin' me? This ain't hard work, I'm just two-minute drillin', B,
I could use another ring, I left the last one up in Brittany...