Gitcha, Gitcha, Gitcha

[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 ass 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 ass 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 suck my own cock

Fuckin with these Queens niggas 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 ass (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 bitch you belong on the beach

I reach each and every motherfucker 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 fuck 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 glass 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}