Still Grimey Wu-Tang Clan (Ft. C-Rayz Walz, Prodigal Sunn, Sean Price & U-God)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Still Grimey" by Wu-Tang Clan (Ft. C-Rayz Walz, Prodigal Sunn, Sean Price & U-God). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1: U-God]
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 'jects
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, niggas come for test
[Chorus: U-God]
Still grimey (grimey)
Still slimy (slimy)
Don't try me (don't try me, nigga)
It's been ten long years, you can't untie me (yo)
[Verse 2: Sean Price]
Bring fire and Ruck let the heat pour
Niggas like "Ruck, fuck you rhyming to this beat for?"
Listen, life is like a motherfuckin' seesaw
One minute you're hot, the next "Yo, where's Rock?
None of your biz, fuck around, and run in your crib
Wife like "He ain't here", throw some to your wiz
Niggas 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
Y'all niggas ain't nothing, stop fronting, stay passive
Yo, pass the Dutch, on the left hand side
Sean gone till November, stole Wyclef's ride
Bob Backlund, car jacking, New Jersey driving
Y'all niggas ain't think about rapping, til you hear me rhyming, oh
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 'jects
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, niggas come for test
[Chorus: U-God]
Still grimey (grimey)
Still slimy (slimy)
Don't try me (don't try me, nigga)
It's been ten long years, you can't untie me (yo)
[Verse 2: Sean Price]
Bring fire and Ruck let the heat pour
Niggas like "Ruck, fuck you rhyming to this beat for?"
Listen, life is like a motherfuckin' seesaw
One minute you're hot, the next "Yo, where's Rock?
None of your biz, fuck around, and run in your crib
Wife like "He ain't here", throw some to your wiz
Niggas 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
Y'all niggas ain't nothing, stop fronting, stay passive
Yo, pass the Dutch, on the left hand side
Sean gone till November, stole Wyclef's ride
Bob Backlund, car jacking, New Jersey driving
Y'all niggas ain't think about rapping, til you hear me rhyming, oh
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