Chris Webby Bars on Me Lyrics

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Yeah, I’m back up in this bitch, it’s like a uterus,
And I don’t need no lubricated condom when I’m doing this.
All we gotta do is lick, swirl behind the wheel and maneuver it,
20-20 will they use my eyes and see the future with ‘em.
Move your shit, I’m just trying to be who I’m supposed to be,
Supposedly I’m dope, say niggers ain’t as cold as me.
Thing we got in common is I’m always with a hoe or three.
Make it drop it like someone’s pockets is carrying groceries.
‘cause I’m in and I drop that shit, doing shows and stacking chips,
Take my shirt off when I speak, that’s why your girl is on my dick.
Got these tats on all my body and a pocket full of piff,
Fill that bong up with some ice cubes, baby, take a hit.
See, I’m running from the title, everybody voting Webster.
Drinking straight tequila out of motherfucker blender
Middle finger stay up, nobody can sense that
I’m a dog, always sniffing for the female gender.
Friend her up on Facebook and from there it’s a wrap,
Send her poke and then tomorrow she’ll be sitting on my lap.
Even back, when I was broke, my girlies always had a wrap,
Got them big titty bitches with bodies covered in tats.
It’s a mirror warn, a twist and grab, got ladies from the mixer
Then I bring ‘em to the telly and crack a body of liquor.
‘cause I never give a fuck, I’m the type to bang a sister,
Then go back to your crib and fuck your mom like Stiffler.
I hope you get the picture, take it on your code, then,
Up in webbies where you cannot reach me with a road map
To find that you need admiral, ambient and some Prozac.
Always cooking fire, someone show me where the stone is.
Keep on dropping heat, all you play is grab your clit,
‘cause I’m all in this game for winning, I don’t set up for defeat.
From the suburbs to the streets I will stand by what I speak
And I don’t even know what this bitch is saying upon the beat.

But I got a hundred bars on me,
Everything that we go on, they’re tranding cards on me.
Every drink that we get, the titty bar’s on me
And I’ll be living this like this until my heart don’t beat.
Bitches at Chris Webby, that whity who speak deadly,
With my foot up on a pedal like that Mario Andretti.
Fuck that, I rap flames and murder the rap games
Spit until I’m number one with a bullet like Max Paine.
Got that nerve gone tough, then I aim it at your gut,
Later duck is the track that I slap her a big but.
Getting drunk, always looking for some double D cups,
But in a lap I could get up like I’m Wolfgang pop.

Get in the game and I go straight hand,
Wanna get the rap up in my hand,
‘cause I’m here to get it popping, just exactly how I planned.
Take a stand right here for this rapping shit and keep my lyrics accurate
Test me by being rappy, just say it will never happen.
Bitch, salute me, ‘cause truly, I beat the dope, this song, this chorus,
Master Yoda with the bars, I’m a gedy with the force.
‘cause weby don’t got that flow, they get act like they don’t know,
But they ain’t fucking with me, period, yo, for neat, yo.