Goin' Down

Yeah, Webby Uh uh [Hook] All the right friends in all the wrong places Everybody knows, everybody knows where we’re goin’ We goin’ we goin’ we goin’ (yeah, we’re goin’ down) [Verse 1: Chris Webby] We goin’ down, town to town the whole court East to West side, got fan support I serve ‘em with the music like a delicatessen What will I do next, got Connecticut guessin’ Leave a hell of an impression, my words are my weapons Now that my name’s stretchin’ they startin’ to feel threatened I’m rowdy, I’m rough around the edges and I’m reckless Rock mics from New York, Philly to Texas Eat rappers for breakfast, murder a beat Got peoples from Florida to Old Orchard Beach Up north, but of course I show up with a team Roll deep like E pills on submarines Flow obscene, half and half, I need cream So I can add some thickness to the pockets of my jeans One day I’ll be on that TV screen But until then I’m chillin’, just livin’ the dream like [Hook] [Verse 2: Chris Webby] We goin’ down like a light switch, we on that hype shit Middle fingers aren’t concerned about politeness Rip mics righteous, who could not like this Eagle in the sky while you birds still flightless Do nothin’ but travel, flowin’ and such Got girls across the east side blowin’ me up They all got Chris Webby in the tape deck Jersey Shore to my mamacita in Great Neck Sorority girls from Hofstra to Adelphi Down in L.I. they bumpin’ that Webb Y And I’ll make sure that they all are pretty Got a Barbie bitty down in Garden City I guess I got hoes in different area codes CT, 203 to 860 And how could I complain about gettin’ laid off of mixtapes Even though I probably got kids in like six states [Hook] [Verse 3: Chris Webby] We goin’ down like the temperature in winter A skinny white boy inked up, no printer CT Simba, knock ‘em down yellin’ out “Timber!” For those who support all of my Ninja That’s what it is, I’m here to make it pop off Lyrical hot sauce, too dirty to wash off I’m a boss with suburban swag Spittin’ since I had a fuckin’ pet hermit crab I’m burnin’ bags, turn in a swervin’ cab To the school of Hard Knocks where I learned to brag And when we roll up to show our face Bitch I’m walkin’ in the door like I own the place Just gimme one mic, I’m the dopest look How to Be a White Rapper, I wrote the book And that’s just how it is, and that’s just how it be So keep doin’ you, everybody lovin’ me [Hook] Underclassman, Chris Webby, CT, holla