|
eah, I'm back up in this bitch, just like a uterus, |
|
And I don't need no lubricated condom when I'm doing this. |
|
Always got a doobie lit, swerve behind the wheel and maneuver it, |
|
20-20 with it they use my eyes and see the future with 'em. |
|
Moving shit, I'm just trying to be what I'm supposed to be, |
|
Supposedly I'm dope, Saint Nicholas ain't as cold as me. |
|
Thing we got in common is I'm always with a hoe or three. |
|
Make it drop it like someone with Parkinson's carrying groceries. |
|
'Cause I'm here and I rap that shit, doing shows and stacking chips, |
|
Take my shirt off when I spit, that's why your girl is on my dick. |
|
Got these tats all on my body and a pocket full of piff, |
|
Fill the bong up with some ice cubes, baby, take a hit. |
|
See, I'm running for the title, everybody voting Webster. |
|
Drinking straight tequila out a motherfucking blender |
|
Middle finger stay up, nobody can censor |
|
I'm a dog, always sniffing for the female gender. |
|
Friend her up on Facebook and from there it's a wrap, |
|
Send her poke and then tomorrow she'll be sitting on my lap. |
|
Even back, when I was broke, my girlies always had a rack |
|
Love them big titty bitches with bodies covered in tats. |
|
It's that marijuana twister, a twist and grabbing ladies from the mixer |
|
Then I bring 'em to the telly and crack a bottle of liquor. |
|
'Cause I never gave a fuck, I'm the type to bang your sister, |
|
Then go back to your crib and fuck your moms like Stiffler. |
|
I hope you get the picture, take it on your Kodak, |
|
Up in Webby's World you cannot reach me with a road map |
|
To find that you need Adderall, Ambien and some Prozac. |
|
Always cooking fire, someone show me where the stoves at. |
|
Keep on dropping heat, all you players grab your cleats, |
|
'Cause I'm all in this game for winning, I don't settle for defeat. |
|
From the suburbs to the streets I will stand by what I speak |
|
And I don't even know what this bitch is saying up on the beat. |
|
But I got a hundred bars on me, |
|
Everything that we throw on, the credit card's on me. |
|
Every drink that we get, the titty bar's on me |
|
And I'll be living just like this until my heart don't beat. |
|
Bitches it's Chris Webby, that whitey who spit deadly, |
|
With my foot up on the pedal like I'm Mario Andretti. |
|
Fucker, I rap flames and murder the rap game |
|
Spittin' 'til I'm number one with a bullet like Max Payne. |
|
Got that Nerf gun tucked and I'll aim it at your gut, |
|
Better duck is the track that cracker and slapper of big but. |
|
Getting drunk, always looking for some double D cups, |
|
But in the lab I'll cook it up like I'm Wolfgang Puck. |
|
Get in the game and I go straight H.A.M., |
|
When I get the rock up in my hand, |
|
'Cause I'm here to get it popping, just exactly how I planned. |
|
Take a stand right here for this rapping shit and keep my lyrics accurate |
|
Test me while beating Webby, just simply will never happen. |
|
Bitch, salute me, 'cause truly, I be the dopest on the chords, |
|
Master Yoda with the bars, I'm a Jedi with the Force. |
|
That's 'cause Webby done got that flow, they get act like they don't know, |
|
But they ain't fucking with me, period, yo, fanito. |