Label Office Cypher (Interlude) lyrics

WEBBY'S AGENT: Webb, you got the CD?

WEBBY: 'Course I got the f*ckin' CD man, f*ckin' big meeting and sh*t... We're pretty late though, you think we're gonna be good?

WEBBY'S AGENT: I think we're gonna be all set man, just pick up your pants a little bit. No talking about Adderal, no talking about banging this guy's wife like keep it real good

WEBBY: Of course, of course... Oh sh*t, is that that f*cking BarsTaLoan dude again?

WEBBY'S AGENT: Man, that guy emails me every day...

BarsTaLoan (to bodyguard): Yo, get your hands off me man, stop I got rights! Stop get, off me!

BODYGUARD: f*ck your rights, you need to evacuate right now

BarsTaLoan: I know I scared this bodyguard, man... Oh, oh, you got Chris Webby up in this motherf*ckin' office? That's who your next appointment is, Chris Webby?! Y'all don't want BarsTaLoan but you're gonna f*ck with Chris Webby up in this b*tch?!

BODYGUARD: Will you get out of here?

BarsTaLoan: Get the f*ck off me man!

BODYGUARD: What?

BarsTaLoan: Chris Webby f*ck you, f*ck Homegrown, f*ck all that other bullsh*t! Get the f*ck off me man! f*ck you Chris Webby

WEBBY: f*ck me? f*ck you! f*ck you buddy!
BarsTaLoan: What old ass copy machine is that? BarsTaLoan I got ink jets boy! Like a motherf*ckin' sauna up in here man, that's what b*tches say when they get in my car n*gga. "It's like a motherf*ckin' sauna up in here damn BarsTaLoan" yeah b*tch cause I'm f*ckin' hot!

BODYGUARD: C'mon let's go...

BarsTaLoan: Nah get your f*ckin' hands off me, yo. It's all conspiracy my n*gga, I'm telling you. It's trilluminati or illuminati, something like that, my boy told me look at the You page, no I mean the YouTube page, it was something but... f*ck you, I know y'all n*ggas is part of that sh*t, I see all these piramids when I'm walkin' in, yo

KENNY: Get the f*ck out of here!

BODYGUARD: Let's go... And don't come f*ckin' back here!

WEBBY (to secretary): Hey, how you doin'

SECRETARY: I'm really sorry about that

WEBBY: Nah, it's cool... I keep seeing that f*ckin' guy everywhere

SECRETARY: He's been in here about four times this week

WEBBY: Really? Interesting... Anyways, I have a meeting today, with Marty?

SECRETARY: Chris Webby?

WEBBY: Yeah, yeah, uh, that would be me

SECRETARY: He's down the hall, first door on the left
WEBBY: Oh I see it, uh thank you, thank you, appreciate that

MARTY: Lisa, where are my fax messages? I asked for those ten minutes ago, let's get it together. That' not what the f*ck I asked for, I asked you to do something, you do it right, otherwise you're fired

WEBBY: Hey, Marty, Marty?

MARTY: Oh mister "thirty-minutes-I'm-late" guy, how you doin'?

WEBBY: Uh I'm, uh... good

MARTY: Well, know you've got five minutes to impress me, so sell me yourself, you got videos? Can you rap?

WEBBY: Yeah, I mean, did you like... research?

MARTY: I don't have time for the internet

WEBBY: Alright, uh, yo, f*ck. Kenny, you wanna just beatbox real quick?

KENNY (in robot voice): Beatbox activating

WEBBY: *coughs*

MARTY (referring to Kenny): Is that coming out of his mouth?

[Freestyle: Chris Webby]
I'm an untrained dog, no collar
Had loose screws since I was a toddler, yo don't bother
Up in this b*tch drinking vodka like water
Do you read me? Roger, I am a monster
All you young buck white kids put the mic down, I am your father
Still be drinking like I did when I was up at Hofstra
Taking more shots than I did playing Contra
Hold up, hold up, hold up, wait
Let me take a sip of water, I don't know if I'm straight
Lost track of all the LIT's that I drank
And I'm feeling like I just might faint
But I lace my sneakers, eat a piece of pizza
And throw another bottle right up on the Visa
Bangin' out those speakers
Going hard in the paint like I f*cked Mona Lisa
Uh, where the chronic B?
My short term memory is chronically
f*cked up, cause I burn down constantly
How could I shape up? I forgot geometry
But they gon' learn CT in geography
Cause I got the whole damn world watching me
It's hard to even keep up with it honestly
Let's gettin' it muthaf*ckin' poppin' B
We're losing brain cells, I don't think I'm leaving this
Motherf*cker, 'til somebody takes away my keys and sh*t
I haven't been trained well, I'm so disobedient
Got that verbal dope, so just holla if you need a fix
Drop a freestyle, daily fire
Lighting up a bong up that'll take me higher, crazy rhymer
That's known to cross the line like a stereotypical Asian driver
Web so sick that I make 'em nauseous
Go balls out, never play it cautious
Went from a dorm room to rapping to muthaf*ckers wearing suits in a label office
I'm a beast on the mic with a beatbox flow
Anybody steppin' after he rocks, no
He got flow, I'm an animal, follow my name with an e-i, e-i, e-i-o
Seat ride low when I'm cruising in
With a cup full of brown like Julian
With a trailer park boy and some hooligans
Got bars, yeah kid I got a few of them
It's C Web
MARTY: Mc Donald's, Coca Cola, Chris Webby, in lights... Billboard, Times Square, you'll be holding babies on ad commercials

WEBBY: That's cool. Babies, why babies? I don't understand this

MARTY: You know what, you wanna make money?

WEBBY: I mean...

MARTY: A million dollars

WEBBY: That's cool, I... don't know...

MARTY: Five albums, eight years

WEBBY, WEBBY'S AGENT, KENNY: What? Five albums, damn! Nah nah...

WEBBY: I...

MARTY: So no deal?

WEBBY'S AGENT: Yeah, we're not gonna...

WEBBY: I... I mean, I'm just not so sure...

MARTY: Get out of my office. Leave the pen here too

WEBBY: Damn, alright...

MARTY (from the distance): Lisa, next meeting! And bring me a coffee and my f*cking granola bar!