Master of the Ceremony - Chris Webby

Webby going hard, you can tell when I drop a line

Its like I’ve had my lyrics genetically modified

Sap giving me beats is like feeding a mogwai, after twelve o’clock on the dot

‘Cause I rap like I’m 'bout to stuff you and your squad into sarcophagi

Oh my God am I, blacking out again like I’m hanging out with that Cosby guy?

Killing rappers as easy as swatting flies, with that old school vibe,

it’s just like I’ve been fossilized

Murder shit, like they legalized the Purge when I’m rappin'

They choking like they having some kind of allergic reaction

See 'em nervously scratchin' on they epidermis and that’s when I know I’ll

leave a crime scene, get the surgical napkins

Hackin', slashin', cuttin', leaving your mufuckin' head sufferin' from about

twenty different concussions

Every time I try to get my life together, then the fans be like, «Man,

where the crazy Webby, yo, I like him better»

So at last I’ll give the people what they’ve asked for

Just get my weed, whisky, see them pills there?

Grab four

Get my razor blade, a rolled up twenty, and my glass Roor

Meet me at the back door, tell 'em that I’m back, whore

I’m back, fuckers, huh, let’s go

I could never be what you want me to be

Could never visualize what you want me to see

All I’ve ever known is that I’ma do me

A true MC, yeah I’m the master of the ceremony

Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony

Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony

Yeah Web, talk that shit

Talk that shit, we don’t let up on these fuckers

A new rap song with Miley Cyrus?

Sorry I don’t buy it

This is Hip-Hop, and now we all fucking surrounded by this

Rap, pop, and these bottles, and twerking it right on my dick

So fucking numb is the culture, we’re like, «I kinda like it…»

That ain’t the shit you bump by yourself, get inspired by it

Ain’t the shit that makes you start up a movement, incite a riot

And give a voice to the people who need to be blindly guided

And see somebody to follow, so I’ll be their Iron Giant

To help 'em forget their problems, at least for a fucking moment

When they throw them beats on and I speak to 'em and console 'em

Got fans, just know that like Caesar you could control 'em

Now what would y’all do with a legion of fuckin' Romans?

Us is entertainers, the ones with a chance to rhyme

Gotta give these people something authentic to stand behind

These rapper say they care, but that’s only on camera time

Then they go right back to rappin' 'bout strippers

And damn it I’m, fucking sick of all this stackin' money, spending money,

throwin' money

Shit it’s a recession, most these listeners are owin' money

Cash Money, Young Money, his money, her money

But chances are they ain’t never talking 'bout your money

Fuck money, know what I mean?

This real Hip-Hop shit right here

I could never be what you want me to be

Could never visualize what you want me to see

All I’ve ever known is that I’ma do me

A true MC, yeah I’m the master of the ceremony

Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony

Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony

Yeah I’m the master of the ceremony