[Intro: Chris Webby]

Yeah

[Verse 1: Chris Webby]

You can spot a fire by watching the Spotifiers

They just press play on my shit and they start a fire

Ride 'til I die, 'til there's no groove left on the tires

Chillin' at home like umpires

While I write my next shit, lay it down and flex it

From the booth to the marketplace let the checks hit

Treating every song like an individual investment

Underground king of my coast, eatin' shellfish

With a bad bitch, 'cause we all gon' die

So this lifе I got, I live right

You can all try, but can't outsmart me, 'cause my

Intеllectual's on the level of A.I. 

I learn by defeat, check the battling scars

Bitch, most of you can't even step to half of my bars

You fucking pussy, run your mouth while you actin' all hard

You probably wear your rubber gloves and face mask in the car

With your windows rolled up, trying not to get sick

But shit, I been sick for years, my therapist

Told me if we wrote down all my problems, it'd be a list

So long even Santa Claus couldn't check this

Let alone check it twice, fuck naughty and nice

I'm so bad, having coal in my stocking's a way of life

Kerosene in one hand while the other got a light

Hear a— then I'm calling it a night, Webby

[Chorus: Chris Webby & Locksmith]

Uh, yeah, we all gon' die

Live like the roof's on fire and we yelling out

"Burn, motherfucker, burn, motherfucker, burn

Burn, motherfucker, burn," yeah

Uh, yeah, we all gon' die

Live like the roof's on fire and we yelling out

"Burn, motherfucker, burn, motherfucker, burn (Yo)

Burn, motherfucker, burn" (Fuck 'em, let 'em conspire)

[Verse 2: Locksmith]

See, I can spot a liar by watching his spot expire

I can spit a verse and kill rappers with rapid fire

Rap deniers won't acknowledge my prowess, don't try to route us

Route that I'm on based on songs, now who's the loudest?

Allow me to explain my versatility origins

I came up with pimps and rebels fighting the war we in

Normally I'm ignoring the silly rappers with corneums

I can smell the smoke 'cause my hood was a crematorium

This is like a memoriam for what I used to be

So when I light the match, you pussies better use your feet

All that's left is charred up bodies as far as you can see

If you can see, then I might show mercy, don't try to divert me

Fuck your politics and opinion, you just a minion

Everything you ever mention you heard on a cable network

A carefully crafted timeline and algorithm

That's only feeding you bias, you don't believe me, just try it

'Cause everything I built, see I built from the ground up

Come around us, like you been sippin' that Roundup

Killin' off you weeds as I weave in-between the sound

I'm astounded how you suckas keep bitchin, like, how come?

Douse you with accelerant, what you think is irrelevant

Beating around the bush 'cause you scared to address the elephant

Sittin' in the room while I'm shittin' inside your tomb

Somebody pass me a match, click, boom

[Chorus: Chris Webby]

Uh, yeah, we all gon' die

Live like the roof's on fire and we yelling out

"Burn, motherfucker, burn, motherfucker, burn

Burn, motherfucker, burn," yeah

Uh, yeah, we all gon' die

Live like the roof's on fire and we yelling out

"Burn, motherfucker, burn, motherfucker, burn

Burn, motherfucker, burn"

[Verse 3: Apathy]

Pass me the flamethrower, match in the gas and it's game over

Molotov cocktails out of the Range Rover

Half of my brain smolder, with rap, I'm a chain smoker

A dragon who take over, make crack from the baking soda

Gas stove veteran, cheffin' up the medicine

But never get the credit, I'm more Tesla than Edison

All about the Benjamins and what I can invest it in

After the dough, turning big bucks into venison

Replicate it, devastate it, place you on the ventilator

Diss you on the record and write your name in the metadata

Meditative state of an out of body experience

Light your body on fire, get buried in Siberian

Cemeteries get eerie when spirits started appearing

In spots I spit lyrics in, raps you'll never hear again

Better give love or get sent to Heaven above

Or get shredded, fed to the furnace like Freddy's sweater and glove

[Chorus: Chris Webby]

Uh, yeah, we all gon' die

Live like the roof's on fire and we yelling out

"Burn, motherfucker, burn, motherfucker, burn

Burn, motherfucker, burn," yeah

Uh, yeah, we all gon' die

Live like the roof's on fire and we yelling out

"Burn, motherfucker, burn, motherfucker, burn

Burn, motherfucker, burn"