[Verse 1: Chris Webby] Lemme get my fresh on, next on deck I just breeze through easy, I haven't stopped yet People give me daps, it's just a sign of respect For me doin' my damn thing without breakin' a sweat Look at me now, I'm doin' it, that's word on my life Even this bummy ass white boy can clean up nice Button up on, hat crooked to the right Don't gotta look in the mirror cause I know that I'm tight, right? I'm just here to have a hell of a night And I'm ready to get twisted grab the L and a light I know this hip hop game just a roll of the dice But I know that I'm nice, that's why I'm holdin' the mic Flowin' precise, who ever knew this stoner could write And spit venom? Get ready for the cobra to strike The end of the night? Shit it ain't nowhere in sight So stay rockin' with your boy cause the future look bright
[Hook: Chris Webby] So we get down, bottles in the air Dutch full of the kush and my people everywhere And we get down, swag on high Windows low, bass bumpin' in the ride So we get down, ladies looking sexy as hell You want a good time? Then Webby is well So we get down, fill another cup Cause we goin' from now till the sun come up
[Verse 2: Chris Webby] And I get down, like I never wanna get up I never let up, I keep my head up, dead up Fed up, but not havin' my bread up But still I'm goin' all in, bitch, put your bed up Shred up any track given to me It ain't hard for all my dogs and my women to see That I can't wait to be king, Simba's living in me So I'mma roll with it, Kill 'em all subliminally Don't even try gettin' at me, it just ain't worth it Cause I ain't ever seen a mothafucka be perfect Got my own title and I damn sure earned it Ain't nothin' I got now I didn't deserve, bitch! My feet left the surface of Earth cause I'm too fly And I don't ever have to come down, do I? Who I, be? W-E-double B-Y, now who fuckin' with me?
[Hook]
[Verse 3: OnCue] And I get down, like your girl on her knees And I got it in the car when we shootin' the breeze I wish I could leave, the snow and the leaves And see the palm trees, gettin' blown by mamis And y'all say my dick bigger than Tom Lee And I'm tryna get a piece, like my name Gandhi Got my whole state, riding behind me My back seat big enough so go ahead and sign me I murder this rap shit, murder this rap shit No I'm not a thug or stuck in a trap, bitch Tell all these dudes, "Don't check my tactics" Webby I got you, you don't gotta ask it Let's wipe 'em up like a goddamn napkin Half of these dudes shouldn't even be rapping See, me and you got a purpose They should be at Mickey's, flipping our burgers
[Hook]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
