Stranger lyrics

[Verse 1: Chris Webby]
I'm a Super Villain, where the f*cks Kick ass?
One kick to the chest will give em' whiplash
Crack a 6-pack, light a bogie up
Twist a Bamboo, cause bein' sober sucks
I'm the dopest young buck with this rap sh*t
Crazy mothaf*cker 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 Grassy Knoll, sniper rifle Nerf Gun
You ain't ready for the crazy sh*t that Chris'll pull
f*ckin' 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*ck out like Liam Neeson
When his daughter was kidnapped and Taken

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Chris Webby]
I'm mentally insane, on more cocaine 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*t, that roll and smoke sh*t
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 pass by
I give em' bad vibes, but you know I flow butter
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*ckin' 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
Kill 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*t, 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 ass 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