John Cena destroying people on the mic: 30-minute WWE compilation

Hey, no need to disrespect me, because I came out here with a gift for you, John. Austin Theory versus John Cena. I'm not interested in your gift, because you haven't earned the right to give it. No, no, man, no, no, whoa, whoa. I've been watching you, and I've been listening to you, and I don't care. Just like every single person in here, we don't care about you. Why? We don't care about you, because we don't believe you. We don't believe you, because you don't believe you. You're a generic kid out here in fancy sneakers, wearing sunglasses indoors, and you got nothing in here. You have been given opportunity after opportunity after opportunity, and you don't believe in you, and they know it, and the opportunities aren't enough. You got no heart. You got no soul. You're a pair of trunks away from being a jabroni. In theory, you should be great. In theory, you're everything a WWE executive looks for. You look great. You work hard. You jump fast. You run fast. In theory, everyone here should be here to see you, but no one cares, and you're wasting our time. So on behalf of Boston, we'd like to give you a gift. Shut up. Turn around. Get out of the ring, and we will let you walk out of here in one piece. The WWE Universe voted me Superstar of the Year, and although I was flattered, out of respect, I didn't accept the award. Like I said earlier, a man can own up to his flaws. I've been here 10 years. I had one bad season. You want to write me off? Fine, but before you do, look deep into the mirror. This is not your first year here, Dolph. It is your seventh. Seventh. And in that time, all you've been doing is running behind that curtain saying, oh, the administration is holding me down, and I'm so really, really good. All I need is a push, and if anything went wrong, it certainly, certainly wasn't your fault. It was anyone else's. Here are the facts. Only way a guy like you gets a set of nuts is by buying them at the concession stand. The Dolph Ziggler story goes like this. First, you were a caddy. Then, you were a cheerleader. Then, you had blonde hair. Then, you had brown hair. Now, you have blonde hair. Then, you had a large girlfriend. Now, you got a small girlfriend. Now, you got a large man. And you walk around with a suitcase that has a contract and a bunch of vowel tricks. And although you're so damn sick of being so damn sick, which I truly think is irritable bowel syndrome, I, out of respect, allow me to toast to a prosperous 2013 to Dolphin AJ with the one thing that you are full of. Oh, no. You actually referred to me as Kung Pao Chicken. Kung Pao Chicken. Only The Rock could refer to me as Kung Pao Chicken. It's genius. It's absolutely brilliant. Because every single Chinese restaurant you go to, it's always there. It's perfect, Rock. And this is perfect Rock. The Rock comes out, does his shtick, holds the millions in the palm of his hand like only The Rock can do. But you're right. I am that guy. I'm the guy who runs you down when you're not here. But as usual, just like everything else, you're only half right. Because I'm the guy that runs you down when you are here. You see, these people love The Rock. I was one of these people until I got to meet Dwayne Johnson. Dwayne Johnson is a self-centered, egotistical, see-through son of a b---- that wouldn't give a rat's ass if this company closed its doors tomorrow. Now I'll tell you something, Jack. I don't need words like respect and loyalty to trend worldwide. Just like I don't need my notes for my promo on my wrist. Nice tattoo. So here's the skinny. April 1st, when the millions see John Cena versus The Rock. John Cena is going to be eyeing up Dwayne Johnson. And I don't like Dwayne Johnson. You'll probably make your boobs bounce. There'll be a thing on your eyebrow that looks like the people's eyebrow. But I'm going to be looking into the eyes of Dwayne Johnson and see a man afraid. Because you're going to be looking at a dude who may not have balls, but a dude who's going to beat the hell out of you at WrestleMania, Jack. Oh, carry on. Continue trending. So maybe it's not that I don't want to fight you. Maybe I just don't need to. You don't need to fight me. You are the high exalted Roman Reigns. You are the big dog. Everybody back there knows it. Everybody out here still kind of trying to figure it out. Because when they look at you, they see what I see. A cheap ass, corporately created John Cena bootleg. This chump right here, he ain't the guy. Dude, you're just a guy. A guy trying so desperately to fill shoes that you never will. I am the fastest, strongest, and hungriest that I have ever been in my entire life. And the reason you won't sign that is because you know if you do, you're Roman Empire. They boo you because first of all, you suck. And second of all. Go ahead, find it. Go ahead. Oh, wait. It's called a promo. Shut your mouth. You want to be the big dog. You're going to have to learn how to do it. So go ahead. The reason why they boo you is because they see right through you. You're a phony. You're a yes man who can learn how to do anything or be anything. So if you wrap all that up, you're just a fake. That's fine. That's fine, big dog. Congratulations. It took you five years to get a halfway decent promo. But now I'm about to shrink you down to size. I'm a level with you, homie. I haven't main evented WrestleMania in five years. I was the opening match at SummerSlam. I was honored and privileged to earn the United States title at this stage in my career and use it as a beacon of opportunity to introduce new superstars to the WWE like Kevin Owens and AJ Styles, just to name a few. You took the US title as a demotion and you stand there and blame me. Fine. I blame you. I'm still here because you can't do your job. I get it. I can't wrestle. I'm leaving for Hollywood, even though I can't act. I really don't love to do this. And I manipulate everything in the WWE like I run the show. And dudes like you think I take away your chances because I got some key to the city. This is the portion of the program where I turn his theory into crap. If I was really this black arts manipulator pulling all the strings this close to WrestleMania, you think I would be standing in a ring toe-to-toe face-to-face with you? Hell no. I'd be standing face-to-face with The Undertaker. You're a dude named Mike who shortened his last name on the real world, tried to bootleg The Rock's electricity to get put on the WWE. And then when you got here, you straight up stole Chris Jericho's personality. But wait, there's more. You stole Ric Flair's figure four leg lock. But wait, there's more. You stole Daniel Bryan's offense and his personality. And if you act now, I'll let all of you know that you've been reduced to stealing what AJ Styles been saying for the past six months. You got no idea who you are. You're a dude dressed up as a dude playing another dude. You are in a large group of folks that feel you can't get so far in this company until you get held down because you're nothing more than a trend-hopping, joke-stealing, unoriginal shell of a WWE superstar. Difference between me and you, you blame everybody else. I act like a man, stand up and keep fighting. I'm gonna end it with a piece of advice. Next time we talk, don't bring a knife to a gunfight. Because you're not The Undertaker, but if you press me again, you a dead man. Everybody here knows you're gifted. The entire WWE Universe knows that Randy Orton is a future Hall of Famer. But every time you so much as open that cruddy pie hole of yours, all you do is prove to the world that you are the biggest dumbass alive. I hear talking about, oh, time flies, doesn't it? I remember the old times like some grandpa just peed his pants. What I'm doing is I'm telling you it ain't 2002 anymore. This is how stupid you are. You come here and you tell these people that the Kansas City Royals got no shot at winning the championship. 2002, he might have been right. Kansas City Royals lost 100 baseball games. That's okay. A lot happened in 2002. That's the last time you were relevant. But since you've been living under a rock, and now it's 2014, allow me to tell you that the Kansas City Royals are in the World Series. And they have their eyes square on the World Series championship. The World Series and winning the World Series is two completely different things. Oh, yeah. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He's a dumbass, but you're right. Being in it and winning it is two different things. Just like you're going to be in this match on Sunday, but you ain't going to win. You ain't got no chance. You understand that? You're trying to defend your own title reign when half of them are chanting, let's go, Cena, and the other half are chanting, Cena sucks. And not a damn fool in the building is saying a damn thing about Seth Rollins. Here's the sad part. You don't even believe your own crap. The champ is there. But the sorry excuse for a man walking around with it has been reduced to nothing more than a cheap imitation of John Cena. Never shuts up. You can't see me. Hustle, blah, blah, blah. Rollins approved. So very, very original, Seth. No one's ever done anything like that before. Congratulations. You are not a John Cena ripoff. It is about time you made that mean something. A few weeks ago, you busted my nose. Congratulations. Then you got the gall to come out here and tell everybody I'm finished. You kidding me? You ain't the future. You're a footnote. You are an absolute answer to a trivia question. All you are ever going to be is who did John Cena beat to become the 16-time World Heavyweight Champion? It's starting to sink in, isn't it? It's starting to weigh on you. You see, Sunday's not just a match. Sunday, you fight to protect everything. The past, the present, and the future of this man's legacy. Bestowed to him by Ric Flair. He is trying to bestow it upon you. There is one major difference here. Triple H was never Ric Flair's. This Sunday, I'm going to make you mine. I actually do need a win to prove that I belong because of chumps like you to think I already left. Well, you pushed me, AJ. Allow me to push back. I just lost all respect for you and think you're nothing but a punk little. And you want to know why everybody's talking about John Cena versus AJ Styles at the Royal Rumble? Because everybody that has ever despised me actually believes that you are the guy to replace me. But deep, deep in the back of their mind, they know I've made a career out of shutting people's mouths. And when they yell really loud, I just make them eat their words. So congratulations, AJ Styles. You finally had the courage to bow up to John Cena. I'm about to make you feel as stupid as you look. You, you only go where they tell you to go. I go so hard, they tell me to stop. That's passion. Every night you walk down this ramp, you walk down the ramp because you have to. I walk down this ramp every night because I want to. That's passion. And the reason chumps like you say I'm going Hollywood because anybody else in my shoes would have already gone. But I'm still here. And that's passion. Because you're no different than any other person who's ever said Cena sucks or tried to knock me off. So here's what you do. At the Royal Rumble, you bring your family, you bring your friends, you bring the noise, you bring your A-game, and I'm still going to kick your ass and take that championship. Why? Because I'm John Cena. Recognize. This Sunday, Brock Lesnar will not win. Because for him to win, he is going to have to make me lose. He is going to have to make me lose. And I am not laying down for Brock Lesnar. And any of you can take that any way you want. But Brock, I'm not going to lay down for you. You know why? Because you don't deserve this. I am not saying I am unbeatable. One day, I will undoubtedly lose this championship. But it will not be this Sunday. And it will not be to Brock Lesnar. And every single one of you know why. I don't like the guy. He's arrogant. He's a bully. He doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself. He is the most difficult, uncaring, selfish, S.O.B. ever to walk in a WWE locker room. And every superstar knows that. Well, this Sunday, I fight a beast. And to fight a beast, you must become one. So this Sunday, you get your wish. You see a John Cena that I'm not proud of. A John Cena you have never seen before. But a John Cena necessary to keep this. Out of the hands of Brock Lesnar. Hey Brock, if this is your house, then there's a stranger standing in your living room. Brock, there is a stranger in your house right now. Try to come down here and kick me out. Come on. Come on, you talk the talk. I'm standing right in your living room. I'm in your house. You come down here right now and you try to kick me out. No Brock, we must have interrupted dinner. Or maybe he came down with diverticulitis or hepatitis or laryngitis. Or maybe a huge case of punk-gitis. Come on. You said you'd rip me limb from limb. I say you're doing me a favor. Start with my hand. I got way too many fingers. I'm giving you the middle one. Wade Barrett, he talks such a big game. I mean, he has to. He's the fearless leader of Nexus. He's got the resolve of Winston Churchill. And he's as tough as Snooki from the Jersey Shore. We're going to look at you as individuals. We'll take David Otunga. David happens to be nothing more than a below average male escort who clings to someone's arm on the red carpet. And Tarver, well, to be quite honest, Tarver looks like some sort of MMA bank robber who works late nights as a male stripper. And is that Heath Slater? Or the chick from Wendy's? That leads me to Darren Young. This one hits a little bit close to the chest. You see, because the very existence of Darren Young has proved my mother true of all these years, I thought she was lying, but she actually did have a lusty affair with Buckwheat. For those of you who didn't get it, I will be at the Late Show to explain. Skip, you look like that was over your head. You didn't get it? Wait, wait, no, no, wait, wait, wait. Don't even say a word. You see, you're easy. I took a mind reading course in college. I can read your thoughts. Right now you are thinking... Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, heater, jumbo, tugboat. Cena, you don't know what you're talking about. No, no, no, byproduct of a gallon of brandy in my mother's celebrity crush. You don't know what you're talking about. You see, you tapped out too. As a matter of fact, you gave up in under a minute. You want to cut to the chase? Your name shouldn't be Darren Young. Your name should be the weakest link. Undertaker! I know you're not deaf, you're just a coward. Night after, city after city, sold out crowd after sold out crowd. They chant your name. You don't get to be mysterious here. Silence is not an answer. It's either yes or it's no. I'm fine with no, because I will go to WrestleMania as a fan. But get your eyes out of the back of your head and look at the energy when they chant yes. When they chant Undertaker, when they chant do something for God's sake. Do something, because now you only have one week left. One week that sums up your entire career. You can do something, or you can do nothing. And if you do nothing, you let me down, sure as hell let Kane down. But most importantly, you've made it crystal clear to every single person who has ever believed in The Undertaker that you do not care about them. You care only about yourself. You get involved in one of my matches again, you get in my business, and this is gonna get real personal, real fast. Wait a second, wait one second. What's good for the flock isn't good for the champion. Hey, listen man, you seem to have no trouble knocking me down on that announcers table last week, and you get at me for getting involved in your business. First of all, John, nobody told you to stand up on the table like a prima donna and showboat in the first place. Now the way I see it, I did you a favor, cuz I've been in the ring with you, and I've seen you wrestle. And the fact is, you're so uncoordinated, you probably fell off the table before anyway. Yeah, the big dumb animal. You know what? That big dumb animal last time we wrestled made you tap out. That was two years ago, John. A lot has changed since then. No, no, no. Nothing has changed. Two years ago, everybody was talking about Triple H versus John Cena, and two years to the damn day, this is still the main attraction in this business. Nothing has changed. No, something has changed, and it's the fact that now I am the WWE Champion. You know what? Even with that championship, it still don't mean a damn thing. Look at you. You walk around on your high horse, you even call yourself the measuring stick. This is Monday Night Raw. You may have that, but until you beat me, you're nothing.