Yeah, haha. It's Chris Webby. Yeah.

Static on the beat.

Baby I get loose,

I get loose.

You know what I mean?

I'm feelin' good,

Real good.

Uh huh, yeah. Yeah.



It's that human dictionary,

Webby's always rapping A to Z.

Never smart to play with me

The flow is never A to G [?].

My style is indescribable

So nobody can label me.

Get loose with a bottle of goose,

Rollin' an eighth of weed.



Step to me,

Then I'm prepared for war.

'Cause I'm a ninja

So you know I'm down to carry a sword.

In the lead,

So my competitors stare at the score.

While I'll be gettin' high like Chewbacca

And Harrison Ford.



Immature,

Yeah, sure

But I spit that heat.

Molten lava off the top,

Baby, Dante's peak.

I just tighten up my sneaks,

And I stomp that beat.

Build a butcher

Don't even know if you want that beef.



I get loose like the crotch of my jeans.

So complex when I rap.

Can't even tell what a lot of it means.

But I be gettin' to the top

By any possible means.

With that audio crack rock

I got for the fiend.



I get loose,

In the booth

And I'm at it again.

So get ready for the show

Baby gather your friends.

It's that foul mouth white boy

Back to offend

Everybody that I can.

Where's my pad and a pen?

I get loose

With the flow

Never air to my words.

CT on my back,

And I'm reppin' for sure.

Anybody and everybody can tell

It's my turn.

So I'm a show these people why Webby's

The best in the burbs.



I roll the dice like Jumanji,

No Robin Williams,

But I'll have a pack of animals

Stampeding through your lobby.

I'm the son of Zeus,

Webby spit it godly.

I'm a good fella,

Play the roll of Tommy.



With a couple of zannies

In my system

And a Callanie [?]

I'll be wallin' out of control.

I fuckin' dare you to stop me.



I'm edgier

Than complicated origami.

Throwin' fists,

I'm the opposite of Gandhi.

Never be wack,

I'm head of the pack,

I'm leveling tracks.

Etc, you step in the ring,

I'm sending you back.



You'll be lucky if you leave

And then your head is attached.

When I attack the nervous system

With these venemous tracks.

Stay loose with the laces on my boots,

Living proof,

That hip-hop ain't dead,

It evolved to something new.

So call the army

And bring out the damn tanks.

'Cause that's all she wrote

Diary of Anne Frank.



I get loose,

In the booth

And I'm at it again.

So get ready for the show

Baby gather your friends.

It's that foul mouth white boy

Back to offend

Everybody that I can.

Where's my pad and a pen?

I get loose

With the flow

Never air to my words.

CT on my back,

And I'm reppin' for sure.

Anybody and everybody can tell

It's my turn.

So I'm a show these people why Webby's

The best in the burbs.

Yeah.