Chris Webby — Label Office Cypher (Interlude)

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Текст Chris Webby — Label Office Cypher (Interlude)

WEBBY’S AGENT: Web you got the CD?

WEBBY: Course I got the fuckin’ CD man, fuckin’ big meeting and shit… we’re pretty late though, you think we’re gonna be good?

WEBBY’S AGENT: I think we’re gonna be all set man, just pick up your pants a little bit. No talking about Adderal, no talking about banging this guy’s wife like keep it real good

WEBBY: Of course, of course… Oh shit, is that that fucking BarsTaLoan dude again?

WEBBY’S AGENT: Man that guy e-mails me every day…

BarsTaLoan (to bodyguard): Yo get your hands off me man, stop I got rights! Stop get, off me!

BODYGUARD: Fuck your rights, you need to evacuate right now

BarsTaLoan: I know I scared this bodyguard, man… Oh, oh, you got Chris Webby up in this motherfuckin’ office? That’s who your next appointment is, Chris Webby?! Y’all don’t want BarsTaLoan but you’re gonna fuck with Chris Webby up in this bitch?!

BODYGUARD: Will you get out of here?

BarsTaLoan: Get the fuck off me man!

BODYGUARD: What?

BarsTaLoan: Chris Webby fuck you, fuck Homegrown, fuck all that other bullshit! Get the fuck off me man! Fuck you Chris Webby

WEBBY: Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you buddy!
BarsTaLoan: What old ass copy machine is that? BarsTaLoan I got ink jets boy! Like a motherfuckin’ sauna up in here man, that’s what bitches say when they get in my car nigga. «It’s like a motherfuckin’ sauna up in here damn BarsTaLoan» yeah bitch cause I’m fuckin’ hot!

BODYGUARD: C’mon let’s go…

BarsTaLoan: Nah get your fuckin’ hands off me, yo. It’s all conspiracy my nigga, I’m telling you. It’s trilluminati or illuminati, something like that, my boy told me look at the You page, no I mean the YouTube page, it was something but… Fuck you, I know y’all niggas is part of that shit, I see all these piramids when I’m walkin’ in, yo

KENNY: Get the fuck out of here!

BODYGUARD: Let’s go… And don’t come fuckin’ back here!

WEBBY (to secretary): Hey, how you doin’

SECRETARY: I’m really sorry about that

WEBBY: Nah, it’s cool… I keep seeing that fuckin’ guy everywhere

SECRETARY: He’s been in here about four times this week

WEBBY: Really? Interesting… Anyways, I have a meeting today, with Marty?

SECRETARY: Chris Webby?

WEBBY: Yeah, yeah, uh, that would be me

SECRETARY: He’s down the hall, first door on the left
WEBBY: Oh I see it, uh thank you, thank you, appreciate that

MARTY: Lisa, where are my fax messages? I asked for those ten minutes ago, let’s get it together. That’ not what the fuck I asked for, I asked you to do something, you do it right, otherwise you’re fired

WEBBY: Hey, Marty, Marty?

MARTY: Oh mister «thirty-minutes-I’m-late» guy, how you doin’?

WEBBY: Uh I’m, uh… good

MARTY: Well, know you’ve got five minutes to impress me, so sell me yourself, you got videos? Can you rap?

WEBBY: Yeah, I mean, did you like… research?

MARTY: I don’t have time for the internet

WEBBY: Alright, uh, yo, fuck. Kenny, you wanna just beatbox real quick?

KENNY (in robot voice): Beatbox activating

WEBBY: *coughs*

MARTY (referring to Kenny): Is that coming out of his mouth?

[Freestyle: Chris Webby]
I’m an untrained dog, no collar
Had loose screws since I was a toddler
Yo don’t bother
Up in this bitch drinking vodka like water
Do you read me? Roger, I am a monster
All you young buck white kids put the mic down, I am your father
Still be drinking like I did when I was up at Hofstra
Taking more shots than I did playing Contra
Hold up, hold up, hold up, wait
Let me take a sip of water, I don’t know if I’m straight
Lost track of all the LIT’s that I drank
And I’m feeling like I just might faint
But I lace my sneakers, eat a piece of pizza
And throw another bottle right up on the Visa
Bangin’ out those speakers
Going hard in the paint like I fucked Mona Lisa
Where the chronic B?
My short term memory is chronically
Fucked up, cause I burn down constantly
How could I shape up? I forgot geometry
But they gon’ learn CT in geography
Cause I got the whole damn world watching me
It’s hard to even keep up with it honestly
Let’s gettin’ it muthafuckin’ poppin’ B
We’re losing brain cells
I don’t think I’m leaving this
Motherfucker, ’til somebody takes away my keys and shit
I haven’t been trained well, I’m so disobedient
Got that verbal dope, so just holla if you need a fix
Drop a freestyle, daily fire
Lighting up a bong up that’ll take me higher
Crazy rhymer, that’s known to cross the line like a stereotypical Asian driver
Web so sick that I make ’em nauseous
Go balls out, never play it cautious
Went from a dorm room to rapping to muthafuckers wearing suits in a label office
I’m a beast on the mic with a beatbox flow
Anybody steppin’ after he rocks, no
He got flow, I’m an animal, follow my name with an e-i, e-i, e-i-o
Seat ride low when I’m cruising in
With a cup full of brown like Julian
With a trailer park boy and some hooligans
Got bars, yeah kid I got a few of them
It’s C Web
MARTY: Mc Donald’s, Coca Cola, Chris Webby, in lights… Billboard, Times Square, you’ll be holding babies on ad commercials

WEBBY: That’s cool. Babies, why babies? I don’t understand this

MARTY: You know what, you wanna make money?

WEBBY: I mean…

MARTY: A million dollars

WEBBY: That’s cool, I… don’t know…

MARTY: Five albums, eight years

WEBBY, WEBBY’S AGENT, KENNY: What? Five albums, damn! Nah nah…

WEBBY: I…

MARTY: So no deal?

WEBBY’S AGENT: Yeah, we’re not gonna…

WEBBY: I… I mean, I’m just not so sure…

MARTY: Get out of my office. Leave the pen here too

WEBBY: Damn, alright…

MARTY (from the distance): Lisa, next meeting! And bring me a coffee and my fucking granola bar!