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Yeah! Ha ha! It's Chris Webby! Yeah! Statik on the beat! Baby I get loose! I get loose! Know what I mean? Feeling good, real good! Yeah, yeah.
It's that human dictionary, Webby's always rapping A to Z Never smart to play with me, the flow is never rated G. My style is indescribable so nobody can label me Get loose with a bottle of goose, Rollin an eighth of weed. Step to me then I prepare for war Cuz I’m a ninja so you know I’m down to carry a sword. In the lead so my competitors stare at the score While I be getting high like Chewbacca and Harrison Ford. Immature? Yeah, sure but I spit that heat Molten lava off the top baby Dante's Peak. I just tighten up my sneaks and I stomp that beat Bill the butcher don't even know if he want that beef. I get loose, like the crotch of my jeans So complex when I rap, can't even tell what a lot of it means But I be getting to the top by any possible means With that audio crackrock I got for the fiends.
I get loose in the booth and I’m at it again So get ready for the show baby, gather your friends. It's that foul mouth white boy back to offend Everybody that I can, where's my pad and a pen? I get loose with the flow, never edit my words CT on my back and I’m repping for sure Anybody and everybody can tell it's my turn So I’ma show these people why Webby's the best in the burbs! Yeah
I roll the dice like Jumanji, no Robin Williams But I’ll have a pack of animals stampedin through ya lobby. I'm the son of Zeus, Webby spit it godly. I'm a goodfella, play the role of Tommy With a couple zannies in my system and a Kalani I be wildin out of control I f*ckin dare you to stop me. I'm edgier than complicated origami Throwing fists I’m the opposite of Ghandi Never be wack, I’m ahead of the pack I'm leveling tracks etcetera you step in the ring, I'm sending you back You'll be lucky if you're leaving and your head is attached When I attack that nervous system with these venomous tracks. Stay loose like the laces on my boots Living proof that hip hop ain't dead It evolved to something new. So call the army and bring out the damn tanks Cuz that's all she wrote diary of Ann Franks
I get loose in the booth and I’m at it again So get ready for the show baby, gather your friends It's that foul mouth white boy back to offend Everybody that I can, where's my pad and a pen? I get loose with the flow, never edit my words CT on my back and I’m repping for sure Anybody and everybody can tell it's my turn So I’ma show these people why Webby's the best in the burbs, yeah
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