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step back - g-therz lyrics

[intro]
uh huh
sh-t ain’t even close to over motherf-ckers
y’all better know not to f-ck wit g-therz

[verse 1]
back again with no remorse, i am prepped to go to war
beware of this warnin’ shot ’cause i don’t know who told ya broads
that you can f-ck with my f-cking lyrical dexterity
when right in this moment all ya b-tches should get scared of me
it’s just insultin’ to say you’re my compet-tion
y’all fake p-ssies, in other words, all ya tw-ts are fiction
i’m the only one with true p-ssion for rappin’ while ya only care ‘bout dollar signs
and i bust it like a chopper like the name of the gun they used in columbine
but ya punks don’t know what ya playin’ with when trying rye
try to gas me, b-tch i’m as dangerous as cyanide
somebody better go out there make these frauds aware
that i’ll take these suckers out like o’reilly off the air
but don’t judge me man, you ain’t got a gavel
yeah i’m in garden state, surrounded by some rotten apples
i’m an -ssh0l-, gotta h-ssle, this ain’t time to play
when i’m aiming at ya punk motherf-ckers to annihilate

[bridge]
step back and put the mic down
step back and put the mic down
step back and put the mic down
uhh… let’s see who want it now

[verse 2]
cooking up some compositions good to f-ck up compet-tion
’cause kids in town think they now took the f-ckin’ top position
yeah i’m a weird old head, don’t need y’all to tell me twice
but y’all can get jacked like a martin shkreli price
see i’m the wrong rapper to f-ck wit and then aggravate
’cause the only time that you bust it: when ya m-st-rbate
and meanwhile these rappers stink with their mumblin’
putting their sh-t up for free, not making good f-ckin’ sense
y’all muhf-ckers recycle the same plastic
not saying i hate a clean earth, but i hate that sh-t
you can’t be on par with me if you ain’t bustin’ dude on beat
since ya crackers drop n-bombs, then f-ckin’ do not speak
ya overload ya auto-tune ’cause you hate how trash ya are
i’ll take these rappers lacking bars and shove ‘em in a cattle car
and gas ‘em all, this for the culture, while y’all some perpetrators
on my arnie sh-t, i got the bars to terminate ya
you talk about fake sh-t ’cause ya life is sure a lie
that’s what happens when the suburbs combine
soda and technology and think it’s worth a try
you get a slurring high robot with all its circuits fried
only reason why these kids like you, they just wannabes
and i don’t connect with them ’cause i don’t relate to f-ckery
you ain’t boolin’, only time you see blood is when ya menstruate
you’re b-tch made, mind sharp as a dull switchblade
i’m sonnin’ ya, ya f-ckin’ done, ain’t coming close to number one
bunch of punks, suck a d-ck, get f-ckin’ hit from a sucker punch
to the c-nts that said i fell off fast, b-tch the h-ll with that
better recognize the king of the ‘del is back

[hook]
this ain’t a game you wanna try now
don’t try to play around, i don’t like clowns
step back and put the mic down
or your -ss might just get wiped out
step back and put the mic down
step back and put the mic down
step back and put the mic down
step back and get out right now

[verse 3]
and these b-tches actin’ like they’re better than me
yet a verse of mine tops what they ever can be
now you might think that this a bunch of pointless sh-t talkin’
nah i’m talkin’ ‘bout the b-tch i destroyed on misfortune
you know you’re lyrical trash, that’s why you’re b-tchin’ on snap
gotta show off like you’re great to hide ya insecure -ss
what you talkin’ ‘bout i can’t get a hard d-ck, what a f-g
you still soft with no effort put into ya craft
i’m pest control b-tch, getting rid of the rats
said you a scholar and a rapper, then go and spit a real rap
yeah i remember that time i thought we finna collab
thought you’d fit on the track, but realized ya sh-t was just whack
you salty i called you papa doc, yet you did not respond
thanks for makin’ my line more valid on the song
it’s like you can’t even score ’cause you’re missing the point
this sh-t is harder than a hit in the groin
come on you can’t run jerz if you just run from me
tryna convince people that i’m done, b-tch please
tellin’ me to pull up, b-tch pull up ya pampers first
whinin’ like you’re the biggest baby on planet earth
well i mean a punchline from you hits like a baby’s fist
yeah hate me b-tch, you a whack swag rap miscellaneous
sh-t you don’t care for the craft, only tryna make it commercial
who am i kiddin’, i’m beefin’ with franklin the turtle

[outro]
yeah, get mad at therz, the baddest wordsmith, the rappin’ nerd
grab ya purse, get ya pen and pad and work, you craft the worst
get a thing called talent, oh ya haven’t heard?
this battler just got you r-t-rds m-ssacred
b-tch!

- g therz lyrics

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