| Yeah, it’s time to get down to brass tacks
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| Get it cooking baby show me where the lab’s at
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| Here we go again, now see the cash stack
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| All these bills got my pockets saying Aflac
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| Yeah, it’s time to get down to brass tacks
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| Bunch of women in my whip like I’m Mad Max
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| (Ass fat) tap it like I’m skipping through my Snapchats
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| You can’t even do half that
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| You see I’ve always been a killer with raps, it’s that villainous cat
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| Go and tell em Jack the Ripper is back
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| And I’m making every syllable snap, a gorilla with the silverest back
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| Strength levels hitting simian stats
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| Loud pack until my eyes are cloudy
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| And I’m a monster with the ink, when I’m writing they call me Mike Wazowski
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| Am I dead? |
| Cause I see those vultures flying found me
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| Tryna get a piece of what I have proudly designed around me
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| And like Rhonda Rousey I’m smacking bitches, and act malicious
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| In the laboratory I’m back to business.
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| I been the, best in the burbs since my third CD
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| Still I’m under rated like making The Purge PG
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| (They gone love me, trust me)
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| Started in the lab as a puppy now I’m a fully grown UCONN husky
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| Never rusty, so never rush me, don’t ever touch me
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| Turned my skills into a job and now I’m getting money
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| My chick’s skinny, my piff’s sticky, my whip’s pretty
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| I been busy, stirring up trouble in Sin City
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| You’ll get killed really, here on the mic when I spit gritty
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| Eating rappers like I got the appetite of Chris Christie
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| I would listen to the radio, taping it on casette
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| So I could walk around my private school playin' it
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| And Eminem was my favourite, can’t you tell?
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| When I grab this serrated blade and I stab myself in the face with it
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| Grab a grenade and placin' it in my pocket and pulled the pin
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| That’s why the Darwin Awards is the only book I’m in
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| Hook 'em in, if these bitches single then my dick’l tingle
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| And you won’t need the internet to witness Christian mingle
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| Yeah, cause I been shooting for the stars
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| I got, openin' telescope, an uzi in the car
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| And now they see me rippin' the stage, I started out on the bottom
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| Got to the middle, now I’m flippin' the page bitch
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| Yeah, it’s time to get down to brass tacks
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| Get it cooking baby show me where the lab’s at
|
| Here we go again, now see the cash stack
|
| All these bills got my pockets saying Aflac
|
| Yeah, it’s time to get down to brass tacks
|
| Bunch of women in my whip like I’m Mad Max
|
| (Ass fat) tap it like I’m skipping through my Snapchats
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| You can’t even do half that
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| Verse 2:
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| Bout to get down to brass tacks, nothing I’m doin' is half ass
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| In the booth, 100 proof, getting loose ‘til the roofs goes poof… match that
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| A literal lab rat, syllables abstract
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| Dozen notebooks, no hooks, in my timberland back pack
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| Killin' shit mad fast, doing some fat dabs
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| On a Dyno with black mags, no time for cat naps
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| Mother fuckers wake up, or climb a ladder with Jacob
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| Name your top 10 rappers, I’ll eat 5 like some Steakums
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| The other 5, 50/50 whether I could take em
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| But I know I could hang with every name that they been sayin'
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| Amazing’s an understatement, I’m underground, under rated
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| Under paid, and underappreciated
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| But I wouldn’t mind bein' famous… hint, hint
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| Go buy my album bitches, fuck it get both of ‘em
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| My flows opium, double dose, mind openin''
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| Feeling like I’m floatin' in, a boiling pool of molten gin
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| Engulfed in sin, tryna stay positive more or less
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| But I know, every shot can’t touch the bottom of the net
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| So it’s on to the next, never wanting to rest
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| Dominant as Indominus Rex, call me God in the flesh
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| Gotta confess, I really got a lot on my chest
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| Treasure buried in my heart, somewhere I forgot how to get
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| I guess, that’s why I’m chewin' percs, cause see the truth can hurt
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| Music works, as my way to connect with the universe
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| It’s not how hard you can hit, but get hit
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| All the scars and shit make you who you are, news alert
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| Be proud own it, third eye open I’m usin' words
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| And sound waves to time travel through space to Jupiter
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| Feelin' like its 4th down, game on the line
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| Hail Mary, Mary please, I’m just waitin' to shine
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| I’m the diamond in the rough that you’ve been waitin' to find
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| So, what the fucks up? |
| Stop wastin' my time
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| Yeah, it’s time to get down to brass tacks
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| Get it cooking baby show me where the lab’s at
|
| Here we go again, now see the cash stack
|
| All these bills got my pockets saying Aflac
|
| Yeah, it’s time to get down to brass tacks
|
| Bunch of women in my whip like I’m Mad Max
|
| (Ass fat) tap it like I’m skipping through my Snapchats
|
| You can’t even do half that |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Brass Tacks , by - Chris Webby. Song from the album Webster's Laboratory II, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп