conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Mars Only pt. 3 with the following description: Months after Logic sparking rumors about him returning from his retirement if he was able to make a collaborative album with Madlib, the duo dropped this single, which uses a reworked version of the “Rappcats Pt. 3” beat, from Quasimoto’s (Madlib’s Alter Ego), album, The Further Adventures of Lord Quas. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro]
  Damn, I hate writing a rap
  And then memorizing the whole shit and then
  Just taking a shower, and then you forget
  Uh, ayo
  [Verse 1]
  Break fast like a gat blast, it's half passed
  Time to get rid of the trash, don't do it for the cash
  I'm writing beats while I'm whippin' the BM
  Shit that make you throw up your hands like 12 PM
  Youngins on the come up, yeah, I see 'em, I'm the old head now
  Uncle at the barbeque like "Go 'head now!"
  But we ain't stuck in the past
  We living in the moment tryna make it last like a photograph
  All the way from Maryland to Malibu, this rap shit will humble you
  Thеn balance you, challenge you, ayy, chеck it, ayy
  I used to think it was bad bitties and big chains
  Looking up to Yeezy realizing that was his thing 
  (
  Yeezy, nigga?
  )
  But then again, I was never one for the big brain
  Dilla-dolla bill, presidential on my wrist, mane
  Yoga flip flame, fuck what everybody doing
  Right here, I'm with this thing, you got cars, homie?
  You got bars, homie?
  This is out of this world, this is Mars only, yo, ayo
  Not too many can do what I do, I'm the rap bastard
  My style been perfected and mastered
  Get mad or get pestered, with Doc. D getting plastered
  Lyrically, I'm Skywalker if he ever went to the dark side
  I got gas like 
  Far Cry
  , R.I.P
  It's the M-A-D to the G-I-C
  Logic and Madlib is MadGic, your catalogue tragic
  Fuck a underground, fuck a pop sound
  Made this whole album in a lockdown, hip hop is our town
  Hairline like Doc Brown but I'm killin' it
  Madvillainous
  , 
  fuck a review
  We make it for the people who feeling this
  Fifteen years, yeah, we still in this, yo, ayo
  Broke in the pop game and they say I sold out, okay, no doubt
  Goal for the window of any business a sold-out sign
  For making it independently, I'm the outline
  You could never out-rhyme, outshine
  'Bout time that I got the recognition
  They love you when you ain't got no pot to piss in
  Shut the fuck up and listen
  Yeah I was here and then they ditch him
  I retire, then they miss him
  I come back, and then they bitchin' like "Ah!" [Intrerlude]
  Yes, this is so
  You know what it is?
  I've never rapped like this before, and it's actually hard
  It is actually a challenge, bro
  And that's what fuckin' music is about
  And that's what hip-hop is about
  Matter fact, save this nigga
  Put it in the hook, here we go
  [Verse 2]
  Yo, ayo
  This is lyrics when you hear them, bow down and revere it
  Ain't no need to fear it 'less your shit is wack
  Got nothing but bars, word to Bourbon Street, hard as concrete
  Take a scalpel to your ankles just to show you defeat
  Let it register, then peep the receipts, you sow what you reap
  A lyrical freak, far from my peak, and the word on the street
  I bring the heat, I can't lie to you
  I'm here to body you, to hit the motherfuckin' rendezvous
  Check, shit is god level, the revel, nobody can rebel
  I'm sick as the devil, 
  I'm Dwayne Johnson, you fuckin' pebble
  Presidential with the vessel, never one to embezzle
  My dick big, my money gross, let's toast to excess
  Peep the success, bitch, I'm in the middle of Little Italy
  Literally no way you could never get rid of me
  'Cause I started from the bottom, the basement, the fucking garbage
  Now I'm on top and you talking shit, hell nah, bitch
  You mad that I'm rich, you mad that I made it
  I'll rub it in your face and paint it in your blood just to illustrate it
  Leave these pussies castrated and faces exacerbated
  Spend all day talking about me, you fascinated
  I'll rip your intestines out of your abdomen
  Through your asshole and choke you with 'em
  I'm sicker than venom, I'll murder you like OGs in prison
  Do to child molesters and rapists of women
  I'm a beat shark that grew legs and evolved from swimming
  You know I started from the bottom, flows I got 'em
  Bars, I got 'em, yeah you know I fuckin' got 'em
  Leaving you stuttering to g-g-get shit out like Joe Biden
  Ridin' in the whip with the homies on some 
  m.A.A.d city
   shit
  This that gritty shit, Brooklyn Nine-Five, New York City shit
  You can hate me now, P. Diddy shit
  I started from the bottom, yeah I really did
  And everything they say is true when you get really big
  $500,000 for a gig, that's why I bought a Charizard for a quarter mil'
  Hip-Hop Twitter mad, fuck how you feel