Lyrics Nasty Filthy - CunninLynguists

Nasty Filthy

Word to the holes on my socks and my nose full of snot
I got dope flows for shows but got no one to watch
I got no dough for clothes but got hoes on my jock
But they don’t know I’m broke cause I told em I’m not
Yo… Who said underground ain’t supposed to be hot?
I remember spinnin' records back before people stopped
Now they spinnin CDs they download and get props
Livin life for the ice like their soul’s on the rocks
But … down here shows we know how to rock
And on wax we rap for food, like the old one we dropped
Look at me!
I been eatin Cherios out the box!
I’m so skinny I get lost in my clothes when I walk!
But … if you relate, press record on ya box
Grab a pack of ramen noodles, let it boil in a pot
And if you been here before you know not to talk
Cause I love the underground.
It’s the road to the top
It’s just another episode from the independent penniless
My D&D studio’s a multitrack minidisk
I’m bankrupt for life and past due on all my loans
Got these bill collectors trying to reach me through studio phones
How can I stress less these damn fools be calling Freshchest
Saying they gone put a freeze on my next test press
Got an 97 BMW you might say it’s fresh
I got it brand new and I ain’t made a single payment yet
Be damn if they ass’ll get it as long as I’m athletic
But with the Bad Luck I got Seven Years Of bad credit
If you see me wit' a TV in the back of my car
Don’t get twisted and start thinking I’mma spectacular star
I got a TV in the front too it’s packed in the car
I’m taking it to da pawn shop but I won’t be back for it tomorrow
I got a ton of bills sittin here just chillin for at least a week
One day maybe I’ll turn’em into Pete Rock beat CD’s
Everyday stuck 'tween a rock and a hardplace (It's that nasty filthy
underground)
So many obstacles making my heart race (It's that nasty filthy underground)
It’s that nasty filthy underground
That naaaasty, filthy underground
Now, which of you dude’s a vet?
When I could drop a double LP from a duel cassette
No MIDI to sport for… when I’m bringing the water
I get the vocals straight off the tape of my Mini Recorder
In your city, with a label budget of 450
Empty Oatmeal box, for a kick that’s so gritty
A jansport with cds in it
With turntables on a floor model with the TV in it
You ain’t all that cause you can afford DATs
I got more wraps than Claus packs when rollin four tracks
And I can only bag beats if them joints is mad cheap
Record right into the headphones — son that shit sounds mad street!
Y’all take the PC way, let ya CD’s play
I rock a 120 Minute TDK
Hey!
Looking for a way to the hype
«Welcome to the underground!»
Shit, that’s just a day in the life
Rents due, in less than 2 weeks now
Label’s calling, claiming they loving my street sound
(They on the west coast!) iIm thinking I’m pacific sea bound
Days passed, now they’re saying that they’ll catch me on the rebound
Next day at my job, clock in and my boss watches
Making sure that I properly stack boxes
The tick-tock on the clock seems to be moving in slo-mo
Waiting on 4-so I can go home and work on my promo
I’m writing so many dope songs (but who’s hearing 'em)
Deacon hits the open mics (but who’s cheerin' him)
Feeling nasty, filthy, or any of those synonyms
«Without Me» the games the same, I ain’t Eminem
I’m just a broke rapper, southern backpacker
Watchin' all these wack niggas and all of their cash stackup
So next Thursday when my paycheck is sent
Will it be for that studio time or rent… I don’t know yo
Everyday stuck 'tween a rock and a hardplace (It's that nasty filthy
underground)
So many obstacles making my heart race (It's that nasty filthy underground)
It’s that nasty filthy underground
That naaaasty, filthy underground