U-God - Still Grimey lyrics

rate me


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

[Chorus: U-God]

Still grimey (grimey, grimey)

Still slimey (slimey, slimey)

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 tre' 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

Ya'll 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

Ya'll 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 spilt, 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 gellati'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 slimey)

I got a jones for Miss Piggy's ham hiney

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


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