[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 competitor
But I'm already seven steps ahead of ya
If you want smoke, check the smoke detector
Fuck 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 fuckin' 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 shit wit’ a delicate touch
But you couldn't any more than a celibate fucks
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 Shell
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 DeGrasse
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 killin' 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
Shit 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 fuck 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 mutha, 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 kills; Avada Kedavra
Huh, 'cuz nobody can stop the Bit-Hopper
Fuckin' 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 hell
Force equals mass 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 shit 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 shit
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)
