[Verse 1: Amleth]
Odin, give me someone with more meat on his bones
Not a mother's boy made to stay reading at home
He's not a lone wolf, he's a sheep left alone
Looks like he'd need to wear a booster seat on his throne
Reading from your library's a fight that needs no weapons
Even your own writer died before he finished seven
And your new film made it to page five before it ended
You murdered cinema, now I am its vengeance!
Are you the best your daddy is sending? His seed is week and decrepit
It seems he's only descended with his descendants
And I dream of what the prophecy meant when it said of future and death
With my uncle's head clearly severed, you had wet dreams of a desert!
I have seen your fate, That's So Raven King
I'd cure you of your allergy, but I'm afraid it stings
No longer will you cough at the product of father's fortune
I got your nose, now where will you put your snorkel?

[Verse 2: Paul Atreides]
I came here to laugh at your family, but this is saddening
No soap, all opera; The Caveman Kardashians
Your ma and uncle got married and you wanna join them?
I'd rather be a mama's boy than be mama's boyfriend!
His odor's sour, come take the coldest shower
Not throw a tantrum because he thought Odin owed him power
The Northman's legacy was well known, it all went southward
When Shakespeare took his whole story and told it louder
What do you know about reading? I don't think you've ever seen a book
You chopped down your family tree to retrieve some kindlewood
So build a bonfire, but you cannot dance around this
I'll bash your thick skull in, there's your crowning
[Verse 3: Amleth]
Meet me at the gates of Hel and I will build your tomb
Unsheath ye arms when I pierce straight through, your PS2 shield ain't blue!
Knight blade stay hilted, my fists will do
To break that pinky used to lift that filthy silver spoon
Your performance is lifeless, detached like a Draugr's joints
Was Timmy forced to act at gom jabbar point?
Whack that wax seal back onto your dad's finger
And don't be someone you're not, lord of the dead ringer

[Verse 4: Paul Atreides]
You started murdering crowds, now you're a curse to your town
I don't need a treatise to judge the worth of your house
Why would I listen to a single fokking word from your mouth
When all I need is The Voice to have you turning around?
You will crumble, you will die on your knees
You will stop trying to bring your sandworm to the surface in these minus degrees
You will end yourself and advance your plot quicker
And stop playing ball games with your mom, you shall Knattleikr!
I'd define living in shame as finding the dick who pillaged and raided
The village you came from to willingly be his slave
Couldn't kill him and waited cuz you pitied the lady
Who blew on your Gjallarhorn, tried to build a relation, but even that ship has sailed