Chris Webby Slow Down (feat. Anoyd & Jitta On The Track)
[Verse 1: ANoyd]
Yeah, you can name anybody, I can make a fool out of
'Cause I'm off E now, Absolute Vodka
And ya girl in the car man
And she getting electrocute carmen
Electrocute, cute in the red suit
We in route by it
Where we at
You can't take train to be here
Start you can chew to chew chew when the Chewbacca
Still got the first rap that I wrote memorized
And I know that combination in my school locker
Wait, yeah, that's high school days
The I really really wish I could recycle days
The generation either it could go two ways
The Triple H shit or Shawn Michaels' leg
Yeah, and it's really no surprise, ya'll upset me before
I got slept on the floor, so I speak for the broke
Like the Wi-fi bad, I connect to the port
Yeah, giving thanks everyday that I'm not dead
You can't evaluate a word that was not said
Bumping in the cornballs outta nowhere
I been running through nothing
Corns and the cobwebs
You know I back it up every time that I talk shit
If rap had a page, I would be the default pic
Convention with a sword and I caught me a swordfish
And when ANoyd here, man, it's really important
[Chorus: Jitta On The Track]
I was jaded now I'm swerving in my lane
Gasolina by the liter in my tank
So I, so I pass the leader, Mama Mia, it's my race, ya
So I pump my breaks, ya, so I pump my breaks, ya
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
Hey yo (Select your player)
[Verse 2: Chris Webby]
V-12 in that framework
While I blaze purp, I'ma claim turf
See I'm in the lead, no catching me
Y'all slow as Lil Yachty's brain works
With a blue shell you got one shot
If you mess with Christian, I'ma catch you slippin'
Got banana peels in my glove box
Windows down and them subs knock
My dude AG got the Midas touch
My oil good and my tires tough
Hit the boost button, now I'm fired up
Y'all gone lose something if you try your luck
I'm eco friendly in a Beamer, Bentley or a Benz
Puttin' that dro in the wind
Trick Daddy in a sick Cadi' on rims
Don't make me do it again
Show 'em daily like I'm Trevor Noah
I just rev the motor, then I'm gettin' over
Run the competition in my pole position
Ain't no hopes of winnin', so just taker it slower
Ain't no baking soda, I'm that raw coke
No cuts in 'em, this is all dope
Don't listen to none of them laws, no
Hit the road like Grand Theft Auto
[Chorus: Jitta On The Track]
I was jaded now I'm swerving in my lane
Gasolina by the liter in my tank
So I, so I pass the leader, Mama Mia, it's my race, ya
So I pump my breaks, ya, so I pump my breaks, ya
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
Slow the f..ck, slow the f..ck down
