Lee Stone - Gitcha, Gitcha, Gitcha lyrics

[Monch ] YeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhAAAHHHHhhhhhh!! [Mr. C ] Got'cha, got'cha, got'cha, got'cha Uh, yeah [Monch ] Y'all, yes yes y'all [Mr. C ] Yo I said, ya ready? [Monch ] Check it out now, we gon' set it on the world Like this one time (one time) Check it out yo In- -dable, -mark-, -mark- Plex where you at!? Where you at yo? [Mr. C ] Yo run it back [Monch ] Ok one more time.. ready, check it out yo [PM(MC)] In-(cred)-able, (re)-mark-(able) (Marksman)-ship, able to (hit) tar-(gets, gets, gets) Without aimin! Divide (Multiply) Subtract the wack (fact remainin) Like off the (actions) ashes (We brandish one) (Flash at the bat that burnt off ya eyelashes) Yo, we gitcha movin! [Chorus - Mr. Complex] We gitcha violent - we gitcha creepin We gitcha whylin - we gitcha movin We gitcha amped up - now gitcha a** up We gitcha clothes wet - now gitcha hands up We gitcha violent - we gitcha groovin We gitcha whylin - we gitcha movin We gitcha amped up - now gitcha a** up We gitcha clothes wet - now gitcha hands up [Pharoahe Monch] Ohhhhh...Them Bells say "Isn't he nice" The Black Star like Talib Kweli plus Sicily Tice Pharoahe Monch threepeat, repeat the rhyme Defeat competitors then delete the grime My spine allows me to s** my own co*k f**in with these Queens n***as ya get stuck The strategy off the beat -- is the removal of ya brains So when I slice ya toes ya never felt the agony of defeat/the feet Casually I depleat, blood cells coagulated From maggot emcees who congregated Slash macks that hafta blast, crush fast and crash competition Math plus what plus what's the oppositions a** (C'mon think fast now) Who want it? Pharoahe Monch, Mr. Complex you'll think you fronted [Chorus] [Mr. Complex] When I'm in a hot seat, I meet or greet or treat or eat the beat I bring heat to the beat, I talk sweet to the beat You sweet b**h you belong on the beach I reach each and every motherf**er that I pucker to kiss a mic No matter who it be, want nothin to do with me Even if ya court me or ya dislike, I don't battle a fistfight Check my knuckles, see this one here? This is the one that'll f** you up real good Feel it, feels like wood If I wanna plant it, I stand slanted to get good leverage And you'll be goin down like a cool beverage Like a Bahama Mama when the drama's microscopic Like in a tall gla** with little umbrellas from the tropics Now what's tropical is typical, the reciprocal of flippin you Is ah, you've been, flipped, now just watch you lip But your nose is in the way Throw ya foes away, there's, no shows today Is been closed for renovations, your flows have no innovation I could flip it in front of a crowd of cripples And still get a standing ovation [Chorus] Gitcha hands up.. gitcha hands up Gitcha hands up.. gitcha hands up {music to fade}