Chris Webby - Go f** Yourself lyrics

[Intro:Elvira, Jimmy Conway, Tony Montana, Clark, Shooter McGavin] Can you stop saying f*** all the time? Why don't you go f** yourself? f** you, how's that? I'll eat pieces of sh** like you for breakfast Go f** yourself Shut.The.f**.Up f**ing n***a f** you f**ing guy Kiss my a** Kiss his a** Kiss your a** Stupid ba*tard I can't f**ing believe you [Verse 1] I always hit 'em with the hardcore That raw triple X p**n flow Now I'm blowin' up Like coke in a who*es noes I don't pay hookers I just punch 'em in the torso Blow a load up on they tits And leave 'em with the doors closed Lord knows I'm a crazy a** savage And they used to laugh at it Now they like "dagnabbit!" Webby droppin' mother f**ers like a bad habit f**in' like a jack rabbit Grammar with mathematics and black magic Speak wickedly leavin' they knees jittery If they beef with-uh-me Then they will leave lividly Hit 'em in the head 'Til they stumble and see 6 of me Then grab the chainsaw From the back of the Jeep Liberty Serving these punks Bring an entree to ya' I'm a sick mother f**er Ask Sanjay Gupta Maneuver like a Puma While I'm k**in' a track I'm the best in the Burbs And the kid is back [Hook: Spider, Jimmy Conway] Why don't you go f** yourself Oh, ohhh (laughs) f**ing get wrecked Can't believe what I just heard Hey Spider, here This is for you Attaboy! I got respect for this kid He's got a lot of f**ing balls Good for you! Don't take no sh** off nobody [Verse 2] Yeah, it's the phantom of the opera With the handle of the vodka King b**h You can't hold a candle to Mufasa Spittin' dope lava rockin' no Prada Wear a wife beater While I'm c*nt-puntin' 'yo mama (what the f**?) 'Cuz Webby fresher than a pack of Certs Makin' sure none of my competition Standin' afterwards Cuz' I break challengers Wanna be fake battlers I'm drunk all day With no shame, like Frank Gallagher Bowser on my bicep Baby I'm a villian I'm a sick f** Usin' plastic silverware to k** 'em Use a bu*ter knife Cut 'em up for 3 days And feed your body parts To my bichon frise I'm too sick for any radio DJ But still they turn it up Run it back, and replay Yeah, I guess I'm just a f**in' nut case So you can go f** yourself for f** sake Yeah [Hook:Jimmy Conway, Tommy DeVito, Henry Hill] It doesn't matter alright? What's the f**in' matter with you? What - what is the f**in' matter with you? What are you, stupid or what? Tommy, Tommy, I'm kidding with you What the f** are you doin'? What are you, a f**in' sick maniac? How am I meant to know you're kidding? What you mean, you're kidding? You breaking my f**in' balls? I'm f**in' kidding with you! You f**in' shoot the guy? He's dead [Verse 3] Yeah, half these rappers turn soft That is something that I'm not though Singing love songs And sippin' a macchiato I'm grimey to the core Always steady with a hot flow Stay high rockin' my shades like Johnny Bravo God knows that I got a few screws loose And my buzz on the web Is bigger than Bruce Bruce Suits You poppin' Rosé While I'm crackin' a fruit juice And mixin' it with Absolut Until I spew puke I'm a serial k**er Webby preparing to k** 'em I'm like Bundy And I'm not talkin' Married with Children Webby smackin' rap promoters If they don't have the cash they owe us On top of my cheese Like lettuce, tomato, and capicola Jack and soda let me puff my piff They never seen this rap sh** Done like this More often than not They all love my sh** But if you're one of 'em That doesn't you can s** my dick [Hook: Jimmy Conway, Tommy DeVito] What you got a problem with what I did anthony? f**in' rat anyway His family's all rats He'll grow up to be a rat You stupid ba*tard I can't f**in' believe you Now, you're gonna dig the f**in' thing now You're gonna dig the hole You're gonna do it I got no f**in' lime. You're gonna do it Who the f** cares? I'll dig the f**in' hole I don't give a f** What is it, the first hole I dug? Not the first time I dug a hole I'll f**in' dig a hole Where are the shovels?