Chris Webby - Axe Murder lyrics

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Chris Webby - Axe Murder lyrics

Yeah Webby Let's hit 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** quick-ily Get ya camcorder out, b**h just picture me k**in' sh** 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**? 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**y 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 Pa**, it's my... turn I throw down with titans, I'm rhymin' more More bars than a phone in a Verizon store b**h, 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 cla** So I got kicked out and put my focus on rap But don't do like I do, cause I'm f**ed 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**in' pot head Nerf Gun in my hand, step and you'll be shot dead Still mother f**in' 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**in' 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**'s sake Chase a 40 o.z. with a box of fish flakes They might forget my name but they'll remember how my dick taste Dictate the scene at all times Cause the ninja rapper's back with an Optimus Rhyme You undercla**men can't see the white noise, b**h That's why my mix tape's bumpin' in ya boy's whip Oh sh**, 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