Krunker V/S Roblox Rivals Rap!
Krunker vs. Roblox Rivals
Red_225 vs. YoLanky
(Heavy bass...)
Announcer:
Two gamers.
One argument.
Neither one knows how to admit the other's game is fun.
Red_225...
YoLanky...
Run it.
*Beat drops.*
YoLanky:
You said, "Play Krunker, bro, the movement's elite."
Five steps later, I'm tripping over my feet.
Sens so wild got me fightin' my aim,
Lost to the settings before I lost the game.
Slide so tricky, got my fingers in knots,
You call it "skill," I call it twenty missed shots.
Then you hit one flick, start callin' me free,
Like one lucky click writes gaming history.
Red_225:
Lucky? Nah, every flick's been trained,
Hours in the lobby, every miss turned gain.
You want the highlight without the grind,
Then blame the game when you're left behind.
YoLanky:
Graphics so blocky I thought they forgot,
Half of the texture pack never got dropped.
You call it "style," I call it a cube,
Bro built an FPS outta YouTube.
Red_225:
Blocky or not, I still stack the score,
Need fancy leaves? I need twenty kills more.
You watch the scenery, I'm watchin' the feed,
Pretty ain't helping when you're chasing my lead.
YoLanky:
Then I saw this knife fly through the sky—
I froze for a second like, "Bro... CAN IT FLY?!"
Thought we were shootin', you changed the whole fight,
Who throws a knife? That's a jump scare in flight!
Red_225:
Walk all the way? Man, that sounds too slow,
If I can throw it, then watch it go.
You looked so shocked, I nearly stood still,
Free elimination—thanks for the free kill.
YoLanky:
Fine... then I opened Rivals? Nah, your turn.
Tell me what made your little brain burn.
Red_225:
Glad that you asked, 'cause this had me cooked,
Opened your menu, took one little look.
"Assault Rifle..." Sweet! Where's the AK at?
...
"Assault Rifle."
Bro, THAT is that?
No nickname?
No model?
No classic? No cap?
Y'all looked at the gun and justlabelledd the map!
YoLanky:
Call it whatever, it still gets the job,
You care 'bout the title, I care 'bout the top.
You read the menu like solving a case,
I'm reading the scoreboard that's right in your face.
Red_225:
Says Mister "Burst Rifle," changing the name,
Slapped on a label, it's still the same.
You can repaint it, polish the glass—
YoLanky:
Don't—
Red_225:
FAMAS.
YoLanky:
Bro...
Red_225:
FAMAS.
YoLanky:
We started already?!
Red_225:
Had to establish the running gag.
(Crowd: "OOOOH!")
Both:
Krunker!
Rivals!
Pick a side!
Egos loaded, let 'em collide!
One says "movement!"
One says "ease!"
One says "practice!"
One says "please!"
Krunker!
Rivals!
Round one's hot—
Talk is cheap...
The next round's not.
(Beat Switch)
Red_225:
Talkin' 'bout graphics? Let's talk gameplay,
How many gadgets do you pack each day?
Flash and smoke, jump pad, medkit too,
Whole backpack full—still AR for you.
YoLanky:
Better than sweatin' to master a slide,
Need finger gymnastics just to glide.
I load up Rivals, jump straight in,
You study movement before you can win.
Red_225:
Easy ain't always the better route,
Microwave meals when I'm cookin' it out.
You skipped the climb, took the elevator,
Then called yourself the better player.
YoLanky:
Hold up, hold up... I checked your page,
Thought I'd seen every weapon on stage.
Machine Gun...
...Minigun?
Wait, that's TWO?!
Red_225:
Told you.
YoLanky:
Why would they do that?
Red_225:
'Cause one lays pressure, one shreds through.
Different jobs—that's nothing new.
Bro looked stunned, couldn't hide the stare,
Started questioning life right there.
YoLanky:
Then I kept scrollin', "Surely that's all..."
Alien Blaster? Bro, who made the call?
Charge Rifle? Build Tool? I burst out laughin',
Your update meetings must be pure freestylin'.
Red_225:
Funny, you mention that, here's the twist—
Tried your crossbow... clicked and missed.
Loaded up mine, and you yelled, "It's broke!"
YoLanky:
'CAUSE IT DIDN'T SHOOT!
Red_225:
Bro... hold the draw.
YoLanky:
...
You charge...
THE XBOW?!
Red_225:
Pull back the string, let tension grow,
It's called a cross-BOW; that's how they go.
You called it bugged, I called it aim,
You lost to medieval physics, blame.
YoLanky:
Alright, fair...
That one was clean.
Still got one-fifty HP between.
You brag 'bout damage, shots that sting,
I live long enough to win the swing.
Red_225:
One-fifty health? That's padding the fight,
I emptied two mags, and it's still not night.
Call it "balanced," I'll call it a delay,
I'm paying my bills while you fade away.
YoLanky:
Longer fights mean you can't just peek,
Land one lucky shot, then call it elite.
You've gotta track, you've gotta commit,
Not every duel ends in one clean hit.
Red_225:
Funny, you preach about "commit,"
Half your gadgets don't get picked.
Flash, smoke, medkit, traps by the score,
Yet every round it's AR once more.
YoLanky:
'Cause it's reliable!
Red_225:
That's my point!
Batman belt...
Toy box...
Still one choice.
YoLanky:
At least I've got choices.
Red_225:
And I've got speed.
YoLanky:
At least my friends can actually keep up with me.
Red_225:
Skill issue.
(Crowd: OHHHH!)
Both:
Krunker!
Rivals!
Raise the stakes!
Every round, another break!
One says "Sweat!"
One says "Fun!"
Neither side is gonna run!
Queue it up!
Turn the heat!
Round Three's bringing pure defeat!
(Final Beat)
YoLanky:
Same old speech, "Skill issue," "Train!"
Heard that line like a thousand games.
You call me easy? I'll wear that crown—
At least I can queue without breaking down.
Red_225:
You call it easy, I call it plain,
Microwave wins don't taste the same.
You skipped the climb, I climbed the hill,
That's why your clips ain't got the same thrill.
YoLanky:
Blocky rooftops, blocky skies,
Still can't tell what's left or right.
Every tree's a cardboard prop,
Thought the render button forgot to pop.
Red_225:
Cardboard map, cardboard tree,
Still your death screen's HD.
You watched the scenery, checked the view,
I checked the scoreboard... it checked on you.
YoLanky:
Then you start with "Burst Rifle—"
Red_225:
FAMAS.
YoLanky:
BRO!
Red_225:
You knew it was coming.
YoLanky:
...I hate you.
Red_225:
Right back at ya.
(Crowd laughs.)
YoLanky:
Keep your FAMAS, keep your slide,
I'll keep fights where both survive.
One-fifty HP means comebacks live,
Not "peek, click, bye" every five.
Red_225:
One-fifty health? You're stretching time,
I finish a verse before you die.
Call it balance, call it fair,
I'm growing old mid-gunfight there.
YoLanky:
Crossbow charging? Weird as heck,
Thought it glitched—I had to check.
Red_225:
Bro held CLICK for half a sec,
Declared the whole game "technically wrecked."
YoLanky:
Machine Gun... Minigun...
I'm still confused.
Red_225:
Admit it.
YoLanky:
...Okay, that one's kinda cool.
Red_225:
THANK YOU.
YoLanky:
Don't push it.
Red_225:
Fair enough.
YoLanky:
Still got gadgets, still got tricks,
Still got options every pick.
Flash or smoke, trap or heal,
Every match can play differently, feel?
Red_225:
Different tools, same old fate,
AR's still your dinner plate.
Batman belt with every toy,
Still forgetting half, my boy.
YoLanky:
At least I don't need six months' grind,
To stop faceplanting every slide.
Red_225:
At least my movement's got some bite,
Not "press one key" and call it hype.
(Beat drops to half-time.)
YoLanky:
Krunker's washed.
Red_225:
Then why'd you learn every mechanic?
YoLanky:
...
Red_225:
Thought so.
YoLanky:
Rivals clear.
Red_225:
Then why're you still arguing?
YoLanky:
...
Red_225:
Thought so.
YoLanky:
Worst game ever.
Red_225:
Clock says...
"Last played: Yesterday."
(Crowd: OOOOOOOOH!)
Both:
Krunker!
Rivals!
Pick your lane!
Same old argument, different game.
You like yours,
I like mine,
Neither one is changing minds.
Queue again?
YoLanky:
...Fine.
Red_225:
Rematch?
YoLanky:
Don't say it.
Red_225:
...
FAMAS.
YoLanky:
I'M LEAVING THE VC.
*Beat cuts.*
*Song ends*