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letra de git gud - mc zappa

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[verse 1: mc zappa]

now it’s time to spew lyrics for a few minutes
see what new gimmicks the suckas have got

my impression is felt with all the six senses
rhymes are hard enough to shatter brick fences

ya toy mc, claimin’ to be a compet-tor
but i’m already seven steps ahead of ya

if you want smoke, check the smoke detector
f-ck a gas mask, ‘cuz that won’t protect ya

ya can’t make decisions; blind discernment
but that’s somethin’ that i am not concerned wit’

be wary; i’m scary, like the end of october
when necessary, i can be ya friend or ya foe, uh

blow up; i’m the f-ckin’ b-o-m-b
you ain’t even a spark; they’ll never see you wit’ me

so don’t try to compare yourself; i’m beyond comparison
my hand is solo, like i’m ford harrison

the only bars you got are from nestlé
it would be in your best interest not to test me

‘cuz i do this sh-t wit’ a delicate touch
but you couldn’t any more than a celibate f-cks

i got the boom bap; got deep percussion
it feels so real, just like patrice rushen

you’ll need 52 weeks to process
all the many words that i speak, and the context

thoughts and rhymes are ricochetin’ like a koopa sh-ll
who could tell when i’m ’bout to go off and snap?

so many industry clones like orphan black
i had to diss ’em for the record ‘cuz they all was wack

droppin’ more science than neil degr-sse
any wack mcs will feel the blast

like diana ross, i’m causin’ shockwaves
mcs get turned upside down when i rock breaks, so git gud

[chorus]
(scratched) get….-good-! (x8)

[verse 2: mc zappa]

mcs who try to jack get smacked and bushwhacked
i got pull, which overpowers the pushback

fresher than glade, so i never could fade
like guinness, never finished; every day, records are made

beats iller than a disease or virus
me, myself and i, mcs admire us

desire us; want to flaunt, but they cannot be
on the level i am; now that would shock me

some try to bite and be near identical
but that won’t work ‘cuz they fear my lyrical prowess

but i ain’t even k!llin’ wit’ malice
slay any suckas who dare to spit in the palace

i knew a couple mcs that had to be eliminated
i blasted ’em so hard, they were disintegrated

shoulda known better that i was a go-getter
gettin’ down like freddie henchi and the soulsetters

sh-t was weak and was stale, so i succeeded; he failed
he had no vision, so i let him read it in braille

yo, and he couldn’t hang, so i lynched him
told him to sit the f-ck down, and i benched him

i got a habit to go off like a hand grenade
i’m not an xbox; i can’t be played

i carve the message, and set it in stone
that i’m a bad m-th-, so let it be known

i throw the rhyme down like a grenade
and hold the stand like the mic is a blade

so when the smoke clears and the silence evaporates
any mcs left, i will decapitate

so many one-hit k!lls; avada kedavra
huh, ‘cuz n0body can stop the bit-hopper

f-ckin’ wit’ me? that just wasn’t a smart move
you shoulda known i was cuttin’ up on a sharp groove

[chorus]
(scratched) get….-good-! (x8)

[verse 3: mc zappa]

i concentrate like a monk in a cell
consequently, my records are funky as h-ll

force equals m-ss times acceleration
the knowledge i’m kickin’ might lead to levitation

rhymes rawer than shoe leather wit’ no spit and polish
hand me a microphone, and i will leave the sh-t demolished

i’m just a master of monstrous rhyme
somethin’ i’m practicin’ all of the time

if you think that you can compete, than you on some other sh-t
fasten your seatbelt, and watch the brotha spit

you wack, so i confiscated the mic
like bobby byrd, i’ll show you the way to get hype

you lost when i seismic tossed like a heracross
got turned upside down like diana ross

and fell victim to centrifugal force
by the time i was through, you was stiff as a corpse

and you changed your tune, like you was bipolar
when you were confronted by mc zappa, the mic holder

sayin’ “that’s enough” because the tracks are rough
and you couldn’t handle the wax i cut

the crowd of the microphone demands an encore
so like sly stone, i stand and rock more

you tryna muscle in, but you get no props
i give you a tampon, and hope the flow stops

like lipps inc., you better hit the deck
it’s a funky town, so wack rappers be gettin’ rekt

my rhyme scheme is sharper than a porcupine
after i’m done, i’ll leave ya prayin’ to the lord divine

when i shocked like a pikachu, the speaker blew
i think your ears should heal within a week or two

i’m beatin’ the wack rappers like a rented mule
compared to me, you little fools are minuscule

[chorus]
(scratched) get….-good-! (x8)

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