Cancion : Certified
Artista : Chris Webby
Album : The Under Classmen
Url : https://www.letras10.co/letra-certified-de-chris-webby


[Verse 1: Chris Webby]
I don’t have a Master’s or Bachelor’s
Just a certificate sayin’ “Certified Rapper”
Fresh, fly, and dapper
Cracker with cheese, with Connecticut steez
Bitch I’m cooler than a summertime breeze, ho please
In my jeans two cojones, you better respect
You couldn’t get me with a net, I’m the Deadliest Catch
The record labels ever seen, lettin’ off steam
Sippin’ lean, American jumpin’ bean
I’m a fiend for the opposite sex
When I put your feet up by your neck, baby make us both sweat
Yes, I’m a damn dog like a Labrador
Everyday I’m baggin’ whores, fuck you think I’m rappin’ for?
And so what I be comin’ out of Connecticut?
I’m sick of rappers gettin’ big with no prerequisites
I be certified check the rap sheet
While other kids were math geeks and athletes, I was a rap freak
Cause you know that I’m about to get it poppin’
No start button for you, there’s no option
Sippin’ a concoction, I’m no boy from Boston
The tri-states ridin' with me, and stay rockin’
Never spit a flow that you won’t feel
Givin’ you the news, fuckin’ April O’Neill
Got a Casey Jones flow, baby you can never doubt me
Ten foot dick, balls bigger than Lebowski

[Hook]
Bitch I’m certified, what you think about that?
Cause half these cats nowadays can’t even rap
Baby I be certified, this is just a fact
Freestyle, written, whatever it’s all crack
Baby I be certified, goin’ to the top
Cause I can actually spit, this ain’t no pop
Baby I be certified, make the crowd rock
And do it all out of my love for this Hip-Hop
Baby I be certified

[Verse 2: Chris Webby]
Crtified, yes I be certified
So if you comin’ with the beef, then I’ll be servin’ fries
Murder guys with the style I run
From here to kingdom come and then some son (what?)
Professor Plum with the candle stick
Killin’ beats, yo I’m on my Charles Manson shit
Hardcore, yo they softer than the Hanson clique
Get buns everyday another random chick
Got my own lingo, never understandin' others
Roll deep with a muthafackin’ band of brothers
So flawless you’ll be thinkin’ “Uh, can he stutter?”
Nah not this slick-tongued panty-stuffer
You’d think Einstein lived in my house
Get brains all day cause that’s what wisdom’s about
Summer Sanders sucked my dick until I Figured It Out
And then I sent her back to Nick with my kids in her mouth
Cause you know I get it done d-d-done-d-done over any beat
Just give me any one w-w-one-w-one
With styles vicious got you wanna fuckin’ run-r-run
Cause there’s a lot of money, all I want is suh-s-suh-s-suh-s-suh-s-some
And I’m back-b-back, givin’ hip hop somethin’ that it lack-l-lacks
A little creativity up on the tra-tr-track
Webby’s certified no debatin’ that-th-that-th-that-th-that

[Hook]


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