Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Whitney Avalon
Whitney Avalon
Performer
Alyssa Preston
Alyssa Preston
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Whitney Avalon
Whitney Avalon
Songwriter

Lyrics

Princess Rap Battle: Mrs. Claus versus Mary Poppins!
When there’s a looming battle to be faced and fought, the lesson is: get right to it
Practically perfect people prefer to be polite, but sometimes you just have to say “screw it”
You never get applause
You’re the dependent Claus
You’re known for wrapping toys
But my rapping skill destroys
I’m money in the Banks so show some respect
If you tear me up like paper then I’ll resurrect
And I suspect you should check your cholesterol twice
Hey, fat cat, how are you at catching mice?
You’re like a piecrust, so easily smashed
I’ll feed the birds what’s left of you once you’ve been trashed
I hear it’s been years since the North Pole got rigid
Today’s forecast says you’re entirely frigid
Don’t go there, honey, the word around town
Is just a spoonful of sugar gets you to go down
The parrot on your parasol does nothing but protest (Hey!)
You’re a stuck-up servant, ho-ho-horribly dressed
The biggest charity since ever, we help the masses
With you a couple kids get splinters in their asses (Cheeky!)
Your rhymes are weak - you’re a low stakes player
Come at me, freak - I’ll one-horse open slay ya
I’m behind the scenes, but that doesn’t mean I’m dumb
I run the workshop, keep the books, and advise my sugar plum
I’m a baker, all about these rolls, a big broad bruiser
Even your reflection thinks you’re a loser
I find this a bore, let’s double it up
Oh, bring it on, sister, we will mess your shit up!
Bert
Santa
Mary
…Mrs.?
Extemporized before your very eyes
Love to laugh at jolly guys I despise
I likes what I raps and I raps what I likes
‘cause damn right Van Dyke rocks these mics
You’re an icon of greed that’s perverted the season
You give coal to bad kids, Mary teaches ‘em reason, she’s
Super classy, swagolistic, extremely ferocious
Super classy, swagolistic, extremely ferocious
I could do this whole verse backwards, but I truly feel
I’m through wasting my time, because you’re not even real
Fool, I’m real, and I’m spectacular
This Dick can’t stick to an accent or vernacular
Your ugly carpet bag might impress a dunce
But my sack holds billions of presents at once
The whole world counts down to December twenty-fourth
Winter is coming, I’m the “King in the North”
Drinking one Coke a year has made us rich
My list’s never wrong: it says you’re a bitch
Please don’t act like you’re some kind of saint, Nick
Always spying on minors
That’s jailbait, prick
This boring British wench needs a long winter’s nap
You’ve been a naughty girl, shut up and sit on my lap
That’s quite enough of that, the winds have changed here
Let’s see how well you fly without your reindeer
Written by: Whitney Avalon
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