Get Loose Lyrics - Best In The Burbs - Chris Webby

Yeah, haha. It's Chris Webby. Yeah. 

Static on the beat. 

Baby I get loose, 

I get loose. 

You know what I mean? 

I'm feelin' good, 

Real good. 

Uh huh, yeah. Yeah. 

It's that human dictionary, 

Webby's always rapping A to Z. 

Never smart to play with me 

The flow is never rated G. 

My style is indescribable 

So nobody can label me. 

Get loose with a bottle of goose, 

Rollin' an eighth of weed. 

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Step to me, 

Then I'm prepared for war. 

'Cause I'm a ninja 

So you know I'm down to carry a sword. 

In the lead, 

So my competitors stare at the score. 

While I'll be gettin' high like Chewbacca 

And Harrison Ford. 

Immature, 

Yeah, sure 

But I spit that heat. 

Molten lava off the top, 

Baby, Dante's peak. 

I just tighten up my sneaks, 

And I stomp that beat. 

Build a butcher 

Don't even know if you want that beef. 

I get loose like the crotch of my jeans. 

So complex when I rap. 

Can't even tell what a lot of it means. 

But I be gettin' to the top 

By any possible means. 

With that audio crack rock 

I got for the fiend. 

I get loose, 

In the booth 

And I'm at it again. 

So get ready for the show 

Baby gather your friends. 

It's that foul mouth white boy 

Back to offend 

Everybody that I can. 

Where's my pad and a pen? 

I get loose 

With the flow 

Never air to my words. 

CT on my back, 

And I'm reppin' for sure. 

Anybody and everybody can tell 

It's my turn. 

So I'm a show these people why Webby's 

The best in the burbs. 

I roll the dice like Jumanji, 

No Robin Williams, 

But I'll have a pack of animals 

Stampeding through your lobby. 

I'm the son of Zeus, 

Webby spit it godly. 

I'm a good fella, 

Play the roll of Tommy. 

With a couple of zannies 

In my system 

And a Callanie [?] 

I'll be wallin' out of control. 

I fuckin' dare you to stop me. 

I'm edgier 

Than complicated origami. 

Throwin' fists, 

I'm the opposite of Gandhi. 

Never be wack, 

I'm head of the pack, 

I'm leveling tracks. 

Etc, you step in the ring, 

I'm sending you back. 

You'll be lucky if you leave 

And then your head is attached. 

When I attack the nervous system 

With these venemous tracks. 

Stay loose with the laces on my boots, 

Living proof, 

That hip-hop ain't dead, 

It evolved to something new. 

So call the army 

And bring out the damn tanks. 

'Cause that's all she wrote 

Diary of Anne Frank. 

I get loose, 

In the booth 

And I'm at it again. 

So get ready for the show 

Baby gather your friends. 

It's that foul mouth white boy 

Back to offend 

Everybody that I can. 

Where's my pad and a pen? 

I get loose 

With the flow 

Never air to my words. 

CT on my back, 

And I'm reppin' for sure. 

Anybody and everybody can tell 

It's my turn. 

So I'm a show these people why Webby's 

The best in the burbs. 

Yeah.