Chris Webby - f**in Problem lyrics

[Intro] Yea! Webby Bars are still on me man I just keep going CT where you at Yea, it's like that See I'm a beast Always have been, always will be Hungry, a seven course meal couldn't fill me Wanna come and step to the flow then f**a feel free I can make a lyricist look like Lil' B Been in the game for a minute under your radar Building my momentum for the moment that I'll take charge My reflection still the same like spelling racecar Now I've just come far enough to overcome the race card Let me break it off proper Freestylin' to your chick, yea take it off mama I'm a professional showing you who really hotter Gotta smaller chance of beating me than finding Jimmy Hoffa Got a lot of people rolling with me how is it a shocker That I made it to the top, spittin' out this molten lava But now I'm fryin' rappers up like some cala-mari Sorry, I'm chewin' any beat like a piranha With the weed up in my paper or up in a Philly, f** it Until I'm on a beach with a margarita like Jimmy Buffet I be spittin' these flows, time to really get it man Snappin' like a gorilla wearing a silly band Like a tattooed grizzly Sick, representing Raccoon City Playin' these shows, then I smash two bitties Blazin' these flows 'til I stack two milli Came up in the game like a certified hustler Pedal to the metal 'til I'm burning my muffler f** ya, everyday I stay smoking My jar is ajar yea keep that sh** open, potent They can't measure up I'm too tall yo Choke 'em, murder on the mic and now they all know Frozen, spit it so cold that I cause snow You gon' need a sweater and beanie like waldo Mother f**er I am that dude Who else could pull off these Super Mario tattoos I got these other rappers salty like cashews Cause I'm bad news, for my competition, that's true Comin' through, my dude, I live limitless Sick, achoo, I proved I spit vigorous Hating on me while I bruise your chicks cli*oris She was into it and I was into her, get it b**h? Kid Icarus, flying through the clouds With a bottle full of liquor and a pocket full of loud G-g-go across the country and I'm rockin' every crowd I'm a dog, one hundred deeds of Eddie McDowd And I'm a spit my damn flows, suburban commando Call me Rambo, backpack on like Banjo Kazooie, truly in charge like soprano And Jacks at the head of the table of Samcro My mind wanders while I'm writing a free-verse And this weed only makes my A.D.D. worse But I'm coming with the bars let the beast work That's why your little sister got a Webby t-shirt Rocking, dope hip-hopping Full speed with it and I never plan on stopping Italiano on the mic so yo he f**ing mobbin' All I do is murder beats I got a f**ing problem