[Verse 1: Chris Webby] I don’t have a Master’s or Bachelor’s Just a certificate sayin’ “Certified Rapper” Fresh, fly, and dapper Cracker with cheese, with Connecticut steez Bitch I’m cooler than a summertime breeze, ho please In my jeans two cojones, you better respect You couldn’t get me with a net, I’m the Deadliest Catch The record labels ever seen, lettin’ off steam Sippin’ lean, American jumpin’ bean I’m a fiend for the opposite sex When I put your feet up by your neck, baby make us both sweat Yes, I’m a damn dog like a Labrador Everyday I’m baggin’ whores, fuck you think I’m rappin’ for? And so what I be comin’ out of Connecticut? I’m sick of rappers gettin’ big with no prerequisites I be certified check the rap sheet While other kids were math geeks and athletes, I was a rap freak Cause you know that I’m about to get it poppin’ No start button for you, there’s no option Sippin’ a concoction, I’m no boy from Boston The tri-states ridin' with me, and stay rockin’ Never spit a flow that you won’t feel Givin’ you the news, fuckin’ April O’Neill Got a Casey Jones flow, baby you can never doubt me Ten foot dick, balls bigger than Lebowski
[Hook] Bitch I’m certified, what you think about that? Cause half these cats nowadays can’t even rap Baby I be certified, this is just a fact Freestyle, written, whatever it’s all crack Baby I be certified, goin’ to the top Cause I can actually spit, this ain’t no pop Baby I be certified, make the crowd rock And do it all out of my love for this Hip-Hop Baby I be certified
[Verse 2: Chris Webby] Crtified, yes I be certified So if you comin’ with the beef, then I’ll be servin’ fries Murder guys with the style I run From here to kingdom come and then some son (what?) Professor Plum with the candle stick Killin’ beats, yo I’m on my Charles Manson shit Hardcore, yo they softer than the Hanson clique Get buns everyday another random chick Got my own lingo, never understandin' others Roll deep with a muthafackin’ band of brothers So flawless you’ll be thinkin’ “Uh, can he stutter?” Nah not this slick-tongued panty-stuffer You’d think Einstein lived in my house Get brains all day cause that’s what wisdom’s about Summer Sanders sucked my dick until I Figured It Out And then I sent her back to Nick with my kids in her mouth Cause you know I get it done d-d-done-d-done over any beat Just give me any one w-w-one-w-one With styles vicious got you wanna fuckin’ run-r-run Cause there’s a lot of money, all I want is suh-s-suh-s-suh-s-suh-s-some And I’m back-b-back, givin’ hip hop somethin’ that it lack-l-lacks A little creativity up on the tra-tr-track Webby’s certified no debatin’ that-th-that-th-that-th-that
[Hook]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
