axe murder - chris webby

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“axe murder”

let’s h-t you with some bars real quick

axe murder a beat the way i spit a free
lizzie borden in the flesh come and get at me
like the witch of the west, i roll wickedly
can’t see me like paranormal activity
lickidy split, i rip sh-t quick-ily
get ya camcorder out, b-tch just picture me
killin’ sh-t everyday till you get sick of me
cause i been a beast since the priest christened me
blowin’ up ya tape deck c.t. to great neck
dutch full of o.g. kush and some train wreck
safe s-x? nah, i’m too raw
i stick it in they jaws then i get ’em out they draws
i’m a boss and break laws but never take a loss
flyer than mccaws, i’m just doin’ it because
i’m the best to do this within my age bracket
waka flocka, soulja boy: none of ’em can match it
that’s it; jot it down, print it up and fax it
and tell all your boys how webby spit that madness
got p-ssy goin’ nuts like i got some catnip
more than a tad sick, i murder ’em for practice
do what i do when i… burn
then ya gonna puff puff p-ss, it’s my… turn
i throw down with t-tans, i’m rhymin’ more
more bars than a phone in a verizon store
b-tch, i’m bigger than a body of a dinosaur
i’m crazy, who would ever blow a line before
goin’ into a math test, energetic as ever
and all i wrote down was my name: it’s ‘chris webster’
too drugged up to pay attention in cl-ss
so i got kicked out and put my focus on rap
but don’t do like i do, cause i’m f-cked in the head
all these un-prescribed meds, now i need special ed
i’m a beast, i’m a dog, i’m a mother f-ckin’ pot head
nerf gun in my hand, step and you’ll be shot dead
still mother f-ckin’ crazy, don’t doubt me
pocket full of lint, pack of bogies and my house keys
aw, jeeze; i be burnin’ the palm trees
keystone light to your f-ckin’ dom p
lazy kid, i still live with my mom, see
smokin’ bud sleepin’ late playin’ nazi zombies
28 days later, see me in the paper
i’m a mix of stewie griffin with a little darth vader
leave a crater in the earth when i drop my mix tape
the north star ain’t this hot, for sh-t’s sake
chase a 40 o.z. with a box of fish flakes
they might forget my name but they’ll remember how my d-ck taste
dictate the scene at all times
cause the ninja rapper’s back with an optimus rhyme
you undercl-ssmen can’t see the white noise, b-tch
that’s why my mix tape’s b-mpin’ in ya boy’s whip
oh sh-t, i spit and wreak havoc
my vocal chords like twin glocks, let me blast it
cause if anybody steps then i’m a bury ’em
c.t.’s on my back and i’m a carry ’em
smoke blunts till my iq’s very dumb
stay high like the water bill at an aquarium

and i’m out

- versuri chris webby

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