And that's how you make a perfect risotto Right, Mrs. Child, welcome to the grown-ups' table I've got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful Cause I'm in the fucking weeds with all these shows to pitch I keep my ovens preheated and my pilots green-lit I'm a seasoned skillet, you're a PAM-sprayed pan I've got Michelin stars, you're like the Michelin Man I'm rolling in dough, like Beef Wellington from hollering And I'm shitting on you like I'm whack flows intolerant Oh, isn't that a wonderful thing? A grumpy little chef who thinks he can bring Enough stuff to justify getting rough With the butter-loving queen of the Bourguignon Boeuf I rock hard as concrete on top of these bomb beats Been chopping the pommes frites since you sucked on your mom's teats I served America dutifully, and I sliced lard beautifully I reign supreme from shark repellent to charcuterie Go on and cross your arms in that B-boy stance When it comes to haute cuisine, there's one F-word: France Here's a nice amuse-bouche, take a poor abused youth Set a thirty-year timer Voila! Huge douche! You're a namby-pamby candy-ass pansy, Gordon Ramsay You couldn't rap your way out of a pastry bag, understand me? I laugh and create, you berate and destroy But fear, my dear boy, is less scrumptious than joy I'm glad that you got that off your giant, flabby chest I'd call you a Donkey but you look more like Shrek When the Iron Man chef busts a rhyme I'll open up on you like a fine red wine I'm a culinary innovator, you're no creator Regurgitating French plates like a glorified translator I'm fresh, you're past your expiration date Alright, fuck it, blue team, drop the bouillabaisse (Yes, chef!) I've seen your little show and it sure ain't pretty One part Big Bird, two parts Miss Piggy You can't test me with your fatty recipes Call your book "Mastering the Art of Heart Disease" I mean, it's rubbish! (Yes, chef!) Look at page 408 Tell me, who the fuck (Yes, chef!) wants to learn to cook calf brains? You call these rhymes raw? (no, chef!) They're stale and soft Now, here, take this jacket... Now give it back and fuck off! Oh please, your defeat's guaranteed Concede, I've got this in the bag, Sous-Vide (ha!) Michelin indeed, you've done well for yourself But as a person, you couldn't get a star on Yelp I could freeze a steak with those frosted tips What's with that bitter taste in every word from your lips? You scream at women, but the fits that you're pitching Make you the pissiest bitch in the kitchen I'll pat you on the head, melt you, and stick it to ya Anything's good with enough butter, booyah! Oh, I'm so glad you spent this time with me Now eat a dick, bon appetit...
(easy to read lyrics) And that's how you make a perfect risotto Right, Mrs. Child, welcome to the grown-ups' table I've got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful Cause I'm in the fucking weeds with all these shows to pitch I keep my ovens preheated and my pilots green-lit I'm a seasoned skillet, you're a PAM-sprayed pan I've got Michelin stars, you're like the Michelin Man I'm rolling in dough, like Beef Wellington from hollering And I'm shitting on you like I'm whack flows intolerant Oh, isn't that a wonderful thing? A grumpy little chef who thinks he can bring Enough stuff to justify getting rough With the butter-loving queen of the Bourguignon Boeuf I rock hard as concrete on top of these bomb beats Been chopping the pommes frites since you sucked on your mom's teats I served America dutifully, and I sliced lard beautifully I reign supreme from shark repellent to charcuterie Go on and cross your arms in that B-boy stance When it comes to haute cuisine, there's one F-word: France Here's a nice amuse-bouche, take a poor abused youth Set a thirty-year timer Voila! Huge douche! You're a namby-pamby candy-ass pansy, Gordon Ramsay You couldn't rap your way out of a pastry bag, understand me? I laugh and create, you berate and destroy But fear, my dear boy, is less scrumptious than joy I'm glad that you got that off your giant, flabby chest I'd call you a Donkey but you look more like Shrek When the Iron Man chef busts a rhyme I'll open up on you like a fine red wine I'm a culinary innovator, you're no creator Regurgitating French plates like a glorified translator I'm fresh, you're past your expiration date Alright, fuck it, blue team, drop the bouillabaisse (Yes, chef!) I've seen your little show and it sure ain't pretty One part Big Bird, two parts Miss Piggy You can't test me with your fatty recipes Call your book "Mastering the Art of Heart Disease" I mean, it's rubbish! (Yes, chef!) Look at page 408 Tell me, who the fuck (Yes, chef!) wants to learn to cook calf brains? You call these rhymes raw? (no, chef!) They're stale and soft Now, here, take this jacket... Now give it back and fuck off! Oh please, your defeat's guaranteed Concede, I've got this in the bag, Sous-Vide (ha!) Michelin indeed, you've done well for yourself But as a person, you couldn't get a star on Yelp I could freeze a steak with those frosted tips What's with that bitter taste in every word from your lips? You scream at women, but the fits that you're pitching Make you the pissiest bitch in the kitchen I'll pat you on the head, melt you, and stick it to ya Anything's good with enough butter, booyah! Oh, I'm so glad you spent this time with me Now eat a dick, bon appetit...
![[INSTRUMENTAL REMIX] Teddy Roosevelt vs Winston Churchill - ERB Season 5.](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/vpCuAziedYU/mqdefault.jpg)
Turn captions on for best experience
All it is is [Music]
Oh yeah yeah
Amen to that.
[music]
And that's how you make a perfect Risotto.
Right.
Ms. Child,
@@Krystal-sg9ji Welcome to the grown-ups' table.
I’ve got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful
@@Krystal-sg9ji 'Cause i'm in the fuckin' weeds!
“YES CHEF!”
1:42
Comeback of a legend!
Return of the king
The second course
This instrumental remake is on point
Julia's beat is fire af
Bro 43 second mark is the dopest beat🔥🔥🔥
And that's how you make a perfect risotto
Right, Mrs. Child, welcome to the grown-ups' table
I've got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful
Cause I'm in the fucking weeds with all these shows to pitch
I keep my ovens preheated and my pilots green-lit
I'm a seasoned skillet, you're a PAM-sprayed pan
I've got Michelin stars, you're like the Michelin Man
I'm rolling in dough, like Beef Wellington from hollering
And I'm shitting on you like I'm whack flows intolerant
Oh, isn't that a wonderful thing?
A grumpy little chef who thinks he can bring
Enough stuff to justify getting rough
With the butter-loving queen of the Bourguignon Boeuf
I rock hard as concrete on top of these bomb beats
Been chopping the pommes frites since you sucked on your mom's teats
I served America dutifully, and I sliced lard beautifully
I reign supreme from shark repellent to charcuterie
Go on and cross your arms in that B-boy stance
When it comes to haute cuisine, there's one F-word: France
Here's a nice amuse-bouche, take a poor abused youth
Set a thirty-year timer
Voila! Huge douche!
You're a namby-pamby candy-ass pansy, Gordon Ramsay
You couldn't rap your way out of a pastry bag, understand me?
I laugh and create, you berate and destroy
But fear, my dear boy, is less scrumptious than joy
I'm glad that you got that off your giant, flabby chest
I'd call you a Donkey but you look more like Shrek
When the Iron Man chef busts a rhyme
I'll open up on you like a fine red wine
I'm a culinary innovator, you're no creator
Regurgitating French plates like a glorified translator
I'm fresh, you're past your expiration date
Alright, fuck it, blue team, drop the bouillabaisse
(Yes, chef!)
I've seen your little show and it sure ain't pretty
One part Big Bird, two parts Miss Piggy
You can't test me with your fatty recipes
Call your book "Mastering the Art of Heart Disease"
I mean, it's rubbish!
(Yes, chef!) Look at page 408
Tell me, who the fuck (Yes, chef!) wants to learn to cook calf brains?
You call these rhymes raw? (no, chef!)
They're stale and soft
Now, here, take this jacket...
Now give it back and fuck off!
Oh please, your defeat's guaranteed
Concede, I've got this in the bag, Sous-Vide (ha!)
Michelin indeed, you've done well for yourself
But as a person, you couldn't get a star on Yelp
I could freeze a steak with those frosted tips
What's with that bitter taste in every word from your lips?
You scream at women, but the fits that you're pitching
Make you the pissiest bitch in the kitchen
I'll pat you on the head, melt you, and stick it to ya
Anything's good with enough butter, booyah!
Oh, I'm so glad you spent this time with me
Now eat a dick, bon appetit...
Pov: the final boss Is coming
(easy to read lyrics)
And that's how you make a perfect risotto
Right, Mrs. Child, welcome to the grown-ups' table
I've got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful
Cause I'm in the fucking weeds with all these shows to pitch
I keep my ovens preheated and my pilots green-lit
I'm a seasoned skillet, you're a PAM-sprayed pan
I've got Michelin stars, you're like the Michelin Man
I'm rolling in dough, like Beef Wellington from hollering
And I'm shitting on you like I'm whack flows intolerant
Oh, isn't that a wonderful thing?
A grumpy little chef who thinks he can bring
Enough stuff to justify getting rough
With the butter-loving queen of the Bourguignon Boeuf
I rock hard as concrete on top of these bomb beats
Been chopping the pommes frites since you sucked on your mom's teats
I served America dutifully, and I sliced lard beautifully
I reign supreme from shark repellent to charcuterie
Go on and cross your arms in that B-boy stance
When it comes to haute cuisine, there's one F-word: France
Here's a nice amuse-bouche, take a poor abused youth
Set a thirty-year timer
Voila! Huge douche!
You're a namby-pamby candy-ass pansy, Gordon Ramsay
You couldn't rap your way out of a pastry bag, understand me?
I laugh and create, you berate and destroy
But fear, my dear boy, is less scrumptious than joy
I'm glad that you got that off your giant, flabby chest
I'd call you a Donkey but you look more like Shrek
When the Iron Man chef busts a rhyme
I'll open up on you like a fine red wine
I'm a culinary innovator, you're no creator
Regurgitating French plates like a glorified translator
I'm fresh, you're past your expiration date
Alright, fuck it, blue team, drop the bouillabaisse
(Yes, chef!)
I've seen your little show and it sure ain't pretty
One part Big Bird, two parts Miss Piggy
You can't test me with your fatty recipes
Call your book "Mastering the Art of Heart Disease"
I mean, it's rubbish!
(Yes, chef!) Look at page 408
Tell me, who the fuck (Yes, chef!) wants to learn to cook calf brains?
You call these rhymes raw? (no, chef!)
They're stale and soft
Now, here, take this jacket...
Now give it back and fuck off!
Oh please, your defeat's guaranteed
Concede, I've got this in the bag, Sous-Vide (ha!)
Michelin indeed, you've done well for yourself
But as a person, you couldn't get a star on Yelp
I could freeze a steak with those frosted tips
What's with that bitter taste in every word from your lips?
You scream at women, but the fits that you're pitching
Make you the pissiest bitch in the kitchen
I'll pat you on the head, melt you, and stick it to ya
Anything's good with enough butter, booyah!
Oh, I'm so glad you spent this time with me
Now eat a dick, bon appetit...
this is so good
K bro. Found the remade version. Thx! Tell me if there’s anything else I can do to support you.
R.I.P. ERB, you sure were one of my top favorite RUclips channels to watch. As a rapper myself, I wish I could've helped EpicLloyd and NicePeter out.
?
they literally just dropped another battle this year. making them 3.
They’re not gone mate
They’re still with us and it’s great
??
?
This ain't no karaoke , this is just the instrumental version a karaoke must contain the lyrics too , I hope you make one with that
No longer doing ERB videos sorry. I say karaoke because the instrumental was meant to be in the style of the original battle.
True the karaoke is clickbait
The starting beat is good
shit slaps
TABS theme be like
kinda hard beat for just 2 people cooking, lol
And that's how you make a perfect Risotto.
1, 2 freddy's coming for you