Until I Die

[Verse 1: Chris Webby]

I started in the game on the grind and I still am

All of it off a sweat on my back without a deal man

Spit it real, and treat em like protected areas in Alaska

Cause they about to know the drill man

So fuckin' illy that I got to pop a pill again

Adderall XR 20 or 30 milligrams

Gotta stay focused in the land of opportunity

Prepared for any twist and turn that anybody threw at me

Grew to be a beast learned it all up in the cypher

All off the top slaughtered 90% of you writers

Regardless of my fuckin' heritage and nationality

I grew up decapitating anybody who battled me

Rappin' rapidly ain't nobody be lappin' me

Jackie Joyner-Kersee 26 paces in back of me

An alcoholic but fuck it homie I'd rather be

Liquored up not givin' a fuck and livin' lavishly

On the go hard diet I burn calories

Setting fire to mics til the melted plastic and ash you see

I've lost my marbles somebody should straight jacket me

Latch it and throw the key in the deepest part of the blackest sea

Toss me on an island like fuckin' Survivor casted me

And still I'll make it back and make every hater a casualty

Running Connecticut, shouts to my homie Apathy

And shouts to everyone who supported me on my path to be

Successful in one way or an other cause grammatically

They know no one could fuck with my metaphorical masterpiece

Got the fuckin' Grim Reaper coming after me

The good die young someone show me where the casket be

[Hook: Daniel Zavaro]

I keep on moving forward

With my head held high

I do this shit forever or at least until I die

Ain't no use in stopping

I got nothing left to hide

I do this shit forever

You couldn't stop me if you tried

[Verse 2: Chris Webby]

Nobody fuckin' with my flow man

Modern day Conan, swords swingin' in both hands

Hip-Hop is all I know man

Bang bitches to Chronic 2001 motherfuckin' Slow Jam

Keep grindin' til the day that Webby holds the belt

Make my haters sit the fuck down, Franky Roosevelt

With that polio flow homie I'm dope as hell

Captain of my movement and I'm treatin' all of my soldiers well

My fans know I won't give rhymin' a rest

And I mean that, from the left side of my chest

I got heart, so all you motherfuckers step your game up

Me with a microphone is like Bob Ross with a paint brush

All you lame fucks gettin' pummeled from the waist up

I don't need a cheap shot to leave your raps laid up

Shane Mosley with punches fuckin' your face up

Eatin' at roofs Chris now let me raise the stakes up

[Hook x2]