[Chris Webby Verse 1]

Uh, I'm rollin' up, steady blazin' good

With more bars than an Irish neighborhood

You wanna step, I wouldn't say you should

So homie, step aside, I got 'em petrified

I run circles around rappers for exercise

I got the best supplies, puff puff passin' it

Rappin' it immaculate, on point, accurate

Passionate, every last technique I mastered it

So I'm ready for war, Montagues and Capulets

But this ain't Shakespeare, I've been rappin' for more than eight years

Eleven in fact, homie so stay clear

These new rappers think they can see me with a sentence

So I call 'em out, like a teacher doin' attendance

I'm nobody's apprentice, I learned it all from practice

I knew in sixth grade that I be following this rap shit

And back then Webby killed it with rhyme

Givin' listeners goosebumps like I'm R. L. Stein

Grind!

[Chorus: Chris Webby]

So strong on the mic

Armed for a fight

Never seen somebody go this fuckin' hard in ya life

So strong on the mic

Armed for a fight

Never seen somebody go this fuckin' hard in ya life

[Verse 2 - Chris Webby:]

You see I used to bag O's (Or Hoes) like General Mills

Now I'm on a paper chase for those federal bills

Cop kush in large quantity, never seen me buy a gram

Hard body like Downey Jr. in Iron Man

I'mma war machine, smoother than Aquaphor

Killin' 'em like Ares, I'm the god of war

Got some Gabogool Macaroni meatball

Italiano's on the mic until the beat stalls

I make 'em freefall, don't need a parachute

I'm goin' in with a suit of armour and a pair of boots

I'm no Bear Jew but Webby will scare you

Every ligament I'm gonna tear you, there you

Go, tryna outdo me, how dare yo

I blow 'em out like a Jersey Shore hairdo

I spit it dope of course, let me hold the torch

Enough power inside me to battle Voldemort

[Chorus: Chris Webby]

So strong on the mic

Armed for a fight

Never seen somebody go this fuckin' hard in ya life

So strong on the mic

Armed for a fight

Never seen somebody go this fuckin' hard in ya life

[Verse 3 - D. Lector:]

I'm high up in the clouds and I'm hidin' in the NASA spacecraft

With a pint of gin, product of my environment

Writin' with the eye of the tiger and I've been rhyming since

Well, before my first Flinstone vitamin

Leave you lying in a bloody mess like Tiny Tim

Legs dangling like snapped strings on a violin

Tatted like Iverson, Klonopin's collidin' in

My stomach full of JD, Vicodin and Heineken

King of pop, I call this rifle MJ, it's frightening

So beat it, or get jacked son, don't make me bring Michael in

Fucked up, I might have been, shut up, you're lighter than a lighter

I sound like a muscle car idling

Fucking nasty, raspy as Ras Kass combined with Canabis

Mixed with white trash and hashish

A dog like Lassy, the type to fuck Mary K

Raw in the ass and pass the camera to Ashley

[Chorus: Chris Webby]

So strong on the mic

Armed for a fight

Never seen somebody go this fuckin' hard in ya life

So strong on the mic

Armed for a fight

Never seen somebody go this fuckin' hard in ya life

So strong on the mic

Armed for a fight

Never seen somebody go this fuckin' hard in ya life