| Webby going hard, you can tell when I drop a line
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| Its like I’ve had my lyrics genetically modified
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| Sap giving me beats is like feeding a mogwai, after twelve o’clock on the dot
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| ‘Cause I rap like I’m 'bout to stuff you and your squad into sarcophagi
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| Oh my God am I, blacking out again like I’m hanging out with that Cosby guy?
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| Killing rappers as easy as swatting flies, with that old school vibe,
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| it’s just like I’ve been fossilized
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| Murder shit, like they legalized the Purge when I’m rappin'
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| They choking like they having some kind of allergic reaction
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| See 'em nervously scratchin' on they epidermis and that’s when I know I’ll
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| leave a crime scene, get the surgical napkins
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| Hackin', slashin', cuttin', leaving your mufuckin' head sufferin' from about
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| twenty different concussions
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| Every time I try to get my life together, then the fans be like, «Man,
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| where the crazy Webby, yo, I like him better»
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| So at last I’ll give the people what they’ve asked for
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| Just get my weed, whisky, see them pills there? |
| Grab four
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| Get my razor blade, a rolled up twenty, and my glass Roor
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| Meet me at the back door, tell 'em that I’m back, whore
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| I’m back, fuckers, huh, let’s go
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| I could never be what you want me to be
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| Could never visualize what you want me to see
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| All I’ve ever known is that I’ma do me
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| A true MC, yeah I’m the master of the ceremony
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| Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony
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| Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony
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| Yeah Web, talk that shit
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| Talk that shit, we don’t let up on these fuckers
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| A new rap song with Miley Cyrus? |
| Sorry I don’t buy it
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| This is Hip-Hop, and now we all fucking surrounded by this
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| Rap, pop, and these bottles, and twerking it right on my dick
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| So fucking numb is the culture, we’re like, «I kinda like it…»
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| That ain’t the shit you bump by yourself, get inspired by it
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| Ain’t the shit that makes you start up a movement, incite a riot
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| And give a voice to the people who need to be blindly guided
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| And see somebody to follow, so I’ll be their Iron Giant
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| To help 'em forget their problems, at least for a fucking moment
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| When they throw them beats on and I speak to 'em and console 'em
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| Got fans, just know that like Caesar you could control 'em
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| Now what would y’all do with a legion of fuckin' Romans?
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| Us is entertainers, the ones with a chance to rhyme
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| Gotta give these people something authentic to stand behind
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| These rapper say they care, but that’s only on camera time
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| Then they go right back to rappin' 'bout strippers
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| And damn it I’m, fucking sick of all this stackin' money, spending money,
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| throwin' money
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| Shit it’s a recession, most these listeners are owin' money
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| Cash Money, Young Money, his money, her money
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| But chances are they ain’t never talking 'bout your money
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| Fuck money, know what I mean? |
| This real Hip-Hop shit right here
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| I could never be what you want me to be
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| Could never visualize what you want me to see
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| All I’ve ever known is that I’ma do me
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| A true MC, yeah I’m the master of the ceremony
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| Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony
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| Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony
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| Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Master of the Ceremony , by - Chris Webby. Song from the album Jamo Neat, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп