Styles Ain't Raw


[Click To Return to Nineteen Ninety Now Tracklist]

Celph Titled & Buckwild
"Styles Ain't Raw (featuring Apathy & Chino XL)"
Nineteen Ninety Now
(c) 2010 No Sleep Recordings

[Talking Intro] [Apathy:]
Yeah.. you know, we came up on an era where everybody was original
Had to have their own style and shit
Now everybody wanna sound like everybody else

[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x2]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"

[Verse One] [Apathy:]
It's like I conjure demons, got bitches at my concert screamin'
Like a Naval recruiter, they truly want the semen {sea men}
Rip MC's at the seams, leave 'em stomped in cement
I bring these muthafuckas hell if they don't repent
Give 'em aneurisms when I start using big words
So I speak to 'em real simple like Big Bird
This has been brought to you by the letter A
Better pray you get away when I let Berettas spray
Get erased, get replaced real quick in this rap biz
Like the wrong answers on a 2nd grade math quiz
Sick of simplifyin' for you simple minded simple simons
This is simple science, what I spit is signifyin'
That my spit is fryin', I could spit-shine the sun's surface
With verses hot as fire-breathing dragon's burbs is
Hate to burst your bubble but you faggots been bottle fed
Noddin' your noggin to what I'm sayin' like Bobbleheads
I'll boggle your mind and crack a bottle of wine
Over your dome 'til your skull's at the bottom of your spine
So dope, you gotta rewind, alot of the rhymes
If Jesus Christ read my notebook then God'll go blind

[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x4]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"

[Verse Two] [Celph Titled:]
When I speak it's a problem, I'm a beast and a goblin
Fuckin' a MILF that closely resembles Marie Osmond
And I been, layin' in the cut
Mind control an elephant, stab your face with a tusk
Orchestrator of death, I am a black reverend
Monitored your stats and saw you needed Monistat 7
Singin' "Eye of the Tiger" but you wear eye liner
Mile High Club flight attendant goin' down on a guy sky diver
ED-209 malfunction, 500 rounds I'm dumpin'
The gatling gun to ya dome react like dynamite inside a pumpkin
(Sadistic appendages?) My whole body's evil
Havin' fun with two guns hittin' ("like some double desert eagles")
We cop cars that look like cop cars
And got helicopters that zero in on hella cop cars
And send a missile at your official tissue
Cuz ya tracks sound gayer than the "Mr. Wendal" instrumental
Detrimental to your squad, I'll diss its members
And dismember body parts, and giftwrap 'em for this December
Death is the plan, you will meet Ed McMahon when I clear you out
Cuz bombs that I publish be Clearing House

[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x4]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"

[Verse Three] [Chino XL:]
("Look! Up in the sky. It's a bird! It's a plane! It's...")
(The Puerto Rican super heeerrrooo!)
I'm angry like my momma just beat me with a switch
Madder than Nick Cannon when Eminem be dissin' his bitch
Big Chino is known to be a wild kid
Y'all refuse to get tested, you know, that Pacquiao shit
Wherever there's drama I'mma fly and find the fucker
Beat him in his face 'til he ugly like Usher's baby momma
I pray for your death and I pray that I'm the cause of it
Idiot killin' a blind man with his own walking stick
My quickest simplest rhythms, I riddle all arithmetics
I memorize ridiculous, I could hypnotize a hypnotist
Spittin' less than 33-ounces, still considered a liter {leader}
My skills are far fetched like a Labrador Retriever
Mira, keep a lot of bars only rivaled by the God of Mars
Watchin' Mya's ass shake on Dancing With The Stars
My foes plot against me, my verbal molestin'
Deserve to be put in chairs of electric like Roman Polanski
I'll put that I target artists on my resume
And place 'em in puddles of blood you can see 80 miles away
Your survival's decided by which side of the bed I wake up on
Worship the works of the wordsmith like it was a cross
My effect on women's hard to explain
I could piss on their head and convince them that it's rain
I'm vain, my six pack makin' bitches love me more
Get out of line, get punched like you Snooki on the Jersey Shore
My raw thoughts are awful
I'm so twisted I could eat an iron nail and shit out a corkscrew
My written's displayed inside of Egyptian pantheons
Chino's bananas, I spit potassium and calcium
And ummm, you ain't feeling my spillings? Only a minor loss
Cause I am bad to the bone like a rotting corpse
My murder monologue keep rappers scared to go up in the booth
Like it's Magic Johnson's wife's vagina raw

[Sample-Triggered Chorus] [x2]
"I'm ill versatile with the style no more
Wack MC's wanna flex but they styles ain't raw"

[Talking Outro] [Celph Titled:]
The coalition of the spoken word crack cookers
Celph Titled, Apathy, Chino XL
Shuttin' shit the frrruck down
Buckwild, DITC
Forever and ever, muthafucka





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