STILL GRIMEY feat. U​-​God, Sean Price, Prodigal Sun & C​-​Rayz Walz

by C-Rayz Walz



Dirty Track, Filthy Bars. A Grimey Anthem.
4 NY Veterans Pull Out The Mud Fighting Skills for the Funky Banger.
It's Just Grimey Like NY HipHop Should be when there's to much Suit & Tie Rap That's Cleaner Than a Bar of Soap.


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, niggas come for test

[Hook: 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
Niggas like Ruck 'Fuck you rhyming to this beat for?'
Listen, life is like a muthafuckin' 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
Ya'll niggas 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 niggas 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 ho, 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 bolt/
Holding my nuts/
Standing by my building looking at myself in the truck/
My reflections... (still grimy)/
Oscar the Grouch's worm (still slimy)/
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 The nine speak/
This is Fu-Manchu/
And who you, fams too/
Better have they face in the game/
Like the Blue Man Group
I know you smell me, I make it funky/
Rock hard and kick ass like, I hate you donkey/
My oatmeal lumpy/ My Johnson's Bumpy,
Harlem humpty
Hungry wolves, pain's hummer, harbor hungry
Dump The/
Blazing Trees, That leave an Old Leaf Resin/
Know why the hood feel me, like police presence?



released October 18, 2005



all rights reserved


C-Rayz Walz Bronx, New York

WHO: The charismatic NYC-mainstay Mc C-RAYZ WALZ. Lauded as one of the most Versatile & Dexterous Freestylers on The Planet. This prolific artist is more than a musician, poet, and stage-wrecker – he has written two books and one screenplay and dips his fingers into the visual arts as well. Walz is about New Music, New Energy & New Chances to do Great things for The Culture he Lives! ... more

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