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chris webby - "u mad" and "drive slow" freestyle on sway lyrics

i’m independent, got no one i need to answer to
just got off the road with tecca nina sipping caribou
livin’ like a pirate so don’t let me make them cannons shoot
i can’t be touched like i’m rocking a mask in crash bandicoot
like a marsupial, i fill up my pouch and it’s stupid full
of the weed, and a couple of beautiful women that webby consider accordable
booty is suitable, and she got monstrous br–sts
say she got sh-t to get off of her chest
let’s start with the bra, then roll up the weed
this pot that i got is indominus rex
and that’s a hybrid. purple with the violet
smoking till i’m squinting on my eyelids, i did
rhyme to beats, got up in the driver seat quietly
now i’m pulling up you hear them tires squeak
walter with that science b
k!ll it when it’s time to speak
me ripping microphones is like carmen sandiego to hide and seek
i run my lane, you can’t even jog buddy
like little terrio doing cross country
and then i ooooooh k!ll ’em
spark the coals and i grill ’em
and hit ’em with precision
regardless of poor vision
i just put them contacts in
time to work ya’ll
coming at you like a vortex nerfball
villian is k!llin this, chris is just really a f-cking professional rapper
k!llin’ opponents, leavin’ ’em domeless
vain poppin out of my neck like disaster
flick of the flick of the wrist
simple and quick, dip in the whip with a chick
how could you be any sicker than chris?
riddle me this
now i got them birds chirpin’ like a town
my tracks on and they play loud
never been the type to lay down
i get on up like james brown
mask on me like bane now
gotham city my playground
got fans from the east to the west coast
and i got reps just spreading my name ’round
so i am sorry, i been rhyming bars since i was watching barney
now i’m eating rappers, dinner party? nah donner party
pardon me baby, the kids gnarly
now these ninjas rollin’ through beverly hills sparking with chris farley
got a barbie in my muscle car
bad p-ssy, uncle scar
here on sway, no we don’t play
yeah i’m always showing up with a ton of bars
no xanax in my handbag, just headphones and a composition
rock and roll to the reggae sh-t
then i’m throwing down trap like i’m lobster fishing
got a lot of styles, better stop and listen
in the top division, now i got ’em wishing
that i fall off like base jump hobbyists
it’s obvious, that you all aren’t stopping christian
beat pop and steady and shredder combined
webby’s already ahead of my time
shredder compet-tors deadly as ever
with rhetoric that could just severe your spine
spit wordy, and sit nerdy
still the undisputed best in the burbs, hands down, 630
i be drinkin’ till all of my sh-ts blurrly
i’m a veteran, earning my stripes, trill murray

drive slow
i been dope since pterodactyls still patrolled the skies
my d-ck is cobra sized, and that’s without a f-cking b-n-r guys
no disguise, i’m a demon, it’s so evilin’
a gold regal, driving it slower than old people
i’m clever as ever, so get it together
dropping gems like aladdin and that tiger head in the desert
i f-cking shatter your confidence, give you skelton tremors
go to war with anyone who says that they are better
go get my scimitar and dis-ssemble you
every d-mn appendage what you think jesse head would do
post it up to vimeo, sh-t will rack up h-lla views
then isis will tweet me like “you should join us bro i’m telling you.”
i will r. kelly you
p-ssing on the world like it’s my urinal
swerving like i’m hunter s. thompson in the convertible
in bat country
a rap junkie who flow surgical
baddest white boy you’ve seen up and close and personal
webby rocks, if you don’t think so you’ve only seen the half of it like fetty wap
venomous as eddy brock
rappin’ till they tell me stop
rollin with a biddie
like i’m ellen with my foot on the pedal up in the chevy drop
rippin verses then i’m spitting the chorus
smoking cannabis until my f-cking vision is distorted
so much weed my pockets look like a coniferous forest
i’m driving slow, yeah i’m rolling in my whip like a tortoise
and my crib is fortress of solitude with a poppin’ view
for real, no longer living at my mommma’s dude
back in school always talking back just lika a c-ckatoo
sat in detention with my cd player b-mping chronic 2
now we made it up from lunchables to bowls of lobster stew
milanesa, piccata, marsala, and trays of pasta too
doing what i got to do, aiming for the top of you
lyrical bullets shooting quicker than all your choppers do…

- chris webby lyrics

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