Certified - Intellectual

[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

[Chorus]

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