[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 a** white boy can clean up nice
bu*ton 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? sh** 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, ba** bumpin' in the ride
So we get down, ladies looking s**y 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, b**h, 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, k** 'em all subliminally
Don't even try gettin' at me, it just ain't worth it
Cause I ain't ever seen a mothaf**a be perfect
Got my own title and I damn sure earned it
Ain't nothin' I got now I didn't deserve, b**h!
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 f**in' 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 sh**, murder this rap sh**
No I'm not a thug or stuck in a trap, b**h
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]