GotBars
Killin' Em

Killin' Em Lyrics Chris Webby

Album: Webster's Laboratory

[Verse 1: Chris Webby]
Yeah, yeah
I be killin’ ‘em
Yeah, yeah
I’m killin’ ‘em
Till my bank statement reads twenty-seven million
They said I couldn’t do it so you know I gotta get it done
Acrobatic rappin’ the way that Webby be flippin’ son
Six mixtapes and the fans need more
I hit the fork in the road and took a detour
Fire marshall shuttin’ shows down
Cause I blow up spots like a dalmatian strapped up with C4
Blow minds when they heard the rap
Hustle so many tapes you think I’m servin' crack
Make bass lines sizzle when I burn a track
Only dude who made Datpiff’s server crash
Yo I’m nice better learn the facts
Came a long fuckin’ way, not a chance I’ll be turnin' back
Uh, so you know that I’ma rap check ‘em
When I put my fitted cap back like Ash Ketchum
I beat 'em up, grab an EMT
Think you better then you must be takin’ DMT
Dream on muthafucka I am the MC
Hard body flow, cop my tape at GNC
See, I shut 'em up like they Papa Doc
Cause I got more lines than a Stop and Shop
On the day before Thanksgiving, yeah I drop a lot
Of shit, stealthy in the game like an ocelot
Ha, Mortal Kombat logo tatted on my back
So you know I’m gonna finish him from the moment I attack
I’m a train passenger all I need is a track
To be gettin’ where I’m goin’ and when I do it’s a wrap
So step when I bust, get left in my dust
I’m in it to the finish investin’ my bucks
The best and I just don’t stop, an animal
My manager found me up at Pet Supplies Plus
Plus I be killin’ ‘em consecutively
Without expending any energy, effortlessly
I got a bag full of trees, Chef Boyardee
And a hometown throne in the 203
Motherfuckas know, they better tuck and roll
Cause I’m the Master and Commander of this shit
They call me Russell Crowe
I’ll never love a ho, so I’ll wear a rubber bro
If I have a kid I’ll get disowned by my mother, yo
On another note, nobody can step to me
I think I may have told you already, but with my memory
It’s hard to remember anything after all the ecstasy
But still they can’t touch me like I got a case of Leprosy
I got ‘em askin’ questions like they playin’ Jeopardy
A dope spittin’ white boy
What is Chris Webby, see
They take shit too serious, I’m here to add some levity
Roll a J and take one to the head, John Kennedy
What I’m here to do is pretty fuckin’ clear cut
Even at forty-five with a beer gut
I’ma still get your chick wetter than a tear duct
And make mixtapes that’ll get your ear fucked
Not in Taylor Gang, not a Young Moola
I’m in Webby’s World, I am the one rula
Nerf gun shoota, with a dumb aim
Leavin’ Monica Lewinsky with a cum stain
Untamed, understand the flows
I’m dope, but at this point the fans should know
HBO flow with a Band of Bros
And a chick with an ass fatter then Amber Rose
Heh, I throw ‘em off like a star pitcher
They can’t follow the flow the way the bars hit ya
I’m a bar spitta
Shit, them beatin' me is like seein' Mel Gibson at a Bar Mitzvah

[Outro: Chris Webby]
Yeah, I be killin’ ‘em
Heh, I be killin’ ‘em
Yeah, Hahaha
Yeah, Webby’s Lab, yessir

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