Chris Webby - Master Of The Ceremony lyrics

[Verse 1:] Webby goin’ hard you can tell when I drop a line It’s like I’ve had my lyrics genetically modified Sap givin’ me beats is like feedin’ a mogwai, after twelve o’ clock in the dark ‘Cause I rap like I’m bout to stuff you in your spot into sarcophagi Oh my God am I, blackin’ out again like I’m hangin’ out with that Cosby guy? k**in’ rappers as easy as swattin’ flies, with that old school vibe, it’s just like I’ve been fossilized Murder sh**, like they legalize the Purge when I’m rappin’ They chokin’ like they havin’ some kind of allergic reaction See I’m nervously scratchin’ on they epidermis and that’s when I know I’ll leave a crime scene, get the surgical napkins Hackin’, slashin’, cuttin’, leavin’ your muf**in’ head sufferin’ from about twenty different concussions Every time I try to get my life together, then the fans be like, “Man, where the crazy Webby, yo, I like him better” So at last I’ll give the people what they’ve asked for Just get my weed, whisky, see them pills there? Grab four Get my razor blade, I’ll roll up twenty in my gla** RooR Meet me at the back door, tell them that I’m back, who*e I’m back, f**ers, huh, let’s go [Hook:] I could never be what you want me to be Could never visualize what you want me to see All I’ve ever known is that I’ma do me A true MC, yeah I’m the master of the ceremony Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony [Interlude: Sap] Yeah Web, talk that sh** Talk that sh**, we don’t let up on these f**ers [Verse 2:] A new rap song with Miley Cyrus? Sorry I don’t buy it This is Hip-Hop, and now we all f**in’ surrounded by this Rap, pop, and these bottles, and t**n’ it right on my dick So f**in’ numb is the culture, we’re like, “I kinda like it…” That ain’t the sh** you bump by yourself, get inspired by it Ain’t the sh** that makes you start up a movement, incite a riot And give a voice to the people who need to be blindly guided And see somebody to follow, so I’ll be their Iron Giant To help ‘em forget their problems, at least for a f**in’ moment When they throw them beats on and I speak to ‘em and console ‘em Got fans, just know that like Caesar you could control ‘em Now what would y’all do with a legion of f**in’ Romans Us is entertainers, the ones with a chance to rhyme Gotta give these people something authentic to stand behind These rapper say they care, but that’s only on camera time Then they go right back to rappin’ ‘bout strippers And damn it I’m, f**in’ sick of all this stackin’ money, spendin’ money, throwin’ money sh** it’s a recession, most these listeners are owin’ money Cash Money, Young Money, his money, her money But chances are they ain’t never talkin’ ‘bout your money f** money, know what I mean? This real Hip-Hop sh** right here [Hook:] I could never be what you want me to be Could never visualize what you want me to see All I’ve ever known is that I’ma do me A true MC, yeah I’m the master of the ceremony Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony