Chris Webby - Stranger lyrics

[Verse 1: Chris Webby] I'm a Super Villain, where the f**s Kick a**? One kick to the chest will give em' whiplash Crack a 6-pack, light a bogie up Twist a Bamboo, cause bein' sober s**s I'm the dopest young buck with this rap sh** Crazy mothaf**er in need of a strait jacket Rap it, grab the track and face bash it Every instrument and the beat will lay in the casket Ha, cause you know I leave em' hurt son On the Gra**y Knoll, sniper rifle Nerf Gun You ain't ready for the crazy sh** that Chris'll pull f**in' despicable, leavin' every hater miserable Kick facts, so come with a diss track I'll hit em' so hard they can't help but sit back I spit raps amazin' And flip the f** out like Liam Neeson When his daughter was kidnapped and Taken [Hook] [Verse 2: Chris Webby] I'm mentally insane, on more c**aine than Rick James Chuggin' Dubra while I be drivin' and switch lanes This kid's brains suffers psychosis Runnin' into on comin' traffic with a helmet and a roach clip The dope sh**, that roll and smoke sh** Hotter than bein' on the equator with a coat zipped Get your boat flipped, I'll leave em' capsized They smell the chronic in the air when I pa** by I give em' bad vibes, but you know I flow bu*ter Gave Steve Austin the stone cold stunner Took a shovel out and I buried The Undertaker Drop the scissors and attacked rock with paper Lord Vader mixed with a little Darth Maul Pedal to the medal til the f**in' car stalls Adderall, Ritalin, LSD I'm meet you up in Webby's world, yo follow me! [Hook] [Verse 3: Chris Webby] I always got one eye open like a coked up Cyclops No time for sleep, not a day that the grind stops k** a beat when I grab the mic, watch Connect more dots than a bag of dice got The raps I drop get flipped like I-HOP Throw more kicks than Noob Saibot cause I rock Make time stop like the Prince of Persia Wanted in 47 states, lyrical murder So believe the sh**, I plead the fifth After I force feed a bulimic chick Swedish fish I'm an evil prick, with some diesel piff Slaughter any competition that I'm beefin' with Beatin' Chris? nah, not likely I'll whoop my own a** with a tire iron, now come fight me Till God strikes me down, I'll keep goin' Givin' Satan himself this free promotion Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah