Текст песни: Label Office Cypher (Interlude) + перевод

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

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

Man that guy e-mails me every day…

Yo get your hands off me man, stop I got rights! Stop get, off me!

Fuck your rights, you need to evacuate right now

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?!

Will you get out of here?

Get the fuck off me man!

What?

Chris Webby fuck you, fuck Homegrown, fuck all that other bullshit!

Get the fuck off me man! Fuck you Chris Webby

Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you buddy!

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!

C’mon let’s go…

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

Get the fuck out of here!

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

Hey, how you doin'

I’m really sorry about that

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

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

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

Chris Webby?

Yeah, yeah, uh, that would be me

He’s down the hall, first door on the left

Oh I see it, uh thank you, thank you, appreciate that

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

Hey, Marty, Marty?

Oh mister «thirty-minutes-I'm-late"guy, how you doin'?

Uh I’m, uh… good

Well, know you’ve got five minutes to impress me, so sell me yourself,

you got videos? Can you rap?

Yeah, I mean, did you like… research?

I don’t have time for the internet

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

Beatbox activating

Is that coming out of his mouth?

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

Mc Donald’s, Coca Cola, Chris Webby, in lights… Billboard, Times Square,

you’ll be holding babies on ad commercials

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

You know what, you wanna make money?

I mean…

A million dollars

That’s cool, I… don’t know…

Five albums, eight years

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

So no deal?

Yeah, we’re not gonna…

I… I mean, I’m just not so sure…

Get out of my office. Leave the pen here too

Damn, alright…

Lisa, next meeting! And bring me a coffee and my fucking granola bar!