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View Poll Results: Rate Still Grimey

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  • 5 Star Classic

    0 0%
  • 4 Star Banger

    1 33.33%
  • 3 Star Decent

    2 66.67%
  • 2 Star Boring

    0 0%
  • 1 Star Wack

    0 0%
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Thread: Still Grimey - Track Review

  1. #1

    Default Still Grimey - Track Review

    Still Grimey

    Wu-Tang Meets the Indie Culture

    C-Rayz Walz
    Prodigal Sunn
    Sean Price



    Yo, rated x, smack you off the stage when I'm vexed
    No sweat, I crack a cold case of Beck's
    Guess whose back, the jack of all trades is next
    The rap cuisine, I crack a raw egg and flex
    I cave in your chest, this one came from the jets
    Yeah, the cause and effect, make innocent blood pour
    The streets is like the rap game, a daily tug of war
    For rich or for poor, or death do us part, niggaz come for test


    Still grimey (grimey, grimey)
    Still slimy (slimy, slimy)
    Don't try me (try me, try me)
    It's been ten long years, you can't untie me

    (Sean Price)

    Bring fire and Ruck let the heat pour
    Niggaz like Ruck 'Fuck you rhyming to this beat for?'
    Listen, life is like a muthafuckin' seesaw
    One minute you're hot, the next, your rep drops
    None of your biz, fuck around, and run in your crib
    Wife like 'He ain't here', throw some to your wiz
    Niggaz running up on me, 'til the trey pound click
    Talking 'bout 'Ruck, let's battle' on some 8 Mile shit
    I'm like; nigga, my name ain't B. Rabbit
    It's Sean Price, Big Ruckus from busting these ratchets
    Call me gay basher, for fucking up these faggots
    Y'all niggaz ain't nothing, stop fronting, stay passive
    Yo, pass the dutch, on the left hand side
    Sean gone 'til November, stole Wyclef's ride
    Bob Backlund, car jacking, New Jersey driving
    Y'all niggaz ain't think about rapping, 'til you hear me rhyming, oh


    (Prodigal Sunn)

    I keeps it real in the field, Navy feel on the drill
    Never stingy with my bills, plenty gravy I spilled
    Recorded in the history of rap, two inch reels
    Seven to ten mills, eleven to twenty hills
    Rest in peace to my brother Half-A-Mil
    Unnecessary blood spillt, another thug killed
    Move with the mass appeal, the blast still
    For the Cash Money Click, No Limits and no thrills
    Mad cuz your hoe, feeling P. Sunzini, give you
    As sweet as a kiwi, face it, you not me, nigga
    Ladi dadi, the Gods like to party
    We don't cause trouble, but we can make you a body
    Ladi dadi, the Sunn likes to party
    I don't cause trouble, but I will make you a body
    Flowin' high in the Mazarati, two with my ninjas beside me
    Lively, floating on some Ducatti's
    With two gelati's, two hotties, we never sloppy
    Jewelry rocky, Spanish pieces, they call me papi
    Clear fire Bacardi, sobered up like Gotti
    Rest in peace to my dog, Shotti, Shotti


    (C-Rayz Walz)

    On the corner ready to bo', holding my nuts
    Standing by my building looking at myself in the truck
    My reflections... (still grimey)
    Oscar the Grouch's worms (still slimy)
    I got a jones for Miss Piggy's ham heiney
    I can be a bum in the slums, and slam shiny
    On every corner, I'm grams, you can find me
    The boss of the burners, I fire shots if your nine speak
    This is true Manchu, and who you, fams too?
    Better have they face in the game, like the Blue Man Group
    I heard you smell me, I make it funky
    Rock hard and kick ass like, I hate you donkeys
    My oatmeal lumpy like Johnson's Bumpy, Harlem humpty
    Hungry wolves, pain's hummer, harbor hungry
    Dumpty, blazing trees, now leave an O.E. present
    Know why the hood feel me, like police presence


  2. #2


    it's ok - chorus a let down.

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