Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ain't Sayin Nothin, artist - Grits.
Date of issue: 02.11.1998
Song language: English
Ain't Sayin Nothin |
Thieves shake the equal |
Glamour Ritz, we got our chucks on |
Many times we been surpassed, they rather put smucks on |
Insubordinate knuckleheads insisting they be spoon fed |
Indeed take precautions, while split-up will make you nauseas |
Simplicity seems to get the best of me |
Listening to emcees twisting renditions of authoring |
Following the hollow styles of other individuals, while we originals get passed |
off like apologies |
My man Bone speaking terms that you learn to discern |
The turn turns roundabout, I sound about |
The animosity, verbal viscosities — I scoff at these insipid nitwits that be |
swearing that they’re emcees |
Drama when mics are around the circumferences |
Cannibalistic mandates of artists labeled «Platinum hits,» |
Poisonous venom is what I send them if they nip at this |
Like a dipstick, I let them know that they’re full of it |
Fill your cup with the hardy tawdry intellect |
I’m injecting a proposal and discretion disposal |
Grasp for reality — can’t get in your clutches with the Starsky and Hutches |
Scribbling wannabes promoting the crutches |
Oh no, Bone and Coffee getting deep again |
Foes, get your boots |
Rich gets stick when heat sets in |
Catch wind and hold your nose as the stench of the truth imposes the sell of |
the units to the youth |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Emcees today, they got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Emcees today, they got nothing to say |
I’m gonna lay down my burdens down by the riverside |
Gliding across sand with the mic in my hand |
Standing out like in arabesque, my styles are blessed |
Delivering the true, you see my mind, I’ve never been this good |
The semen of my psyche, it impregnates the tape |
Ballistic, mind-blowing concepts of language, in true, deep-seated laws of |
religion |
My polemics stand erect, but my craving’s not in check |
The elect Coffee runs for alderman |
I called him in to hit the frontline |
They want rhymes, ill do my best |
Make them digest the foam loaf; |
add some gravy for you, baby |
If I ever, better never, write a lyrics without meaning, nowadays people would |
probably boo me from the stage in a rage |
Tomato juice dripping from my polo hat |
Crying, «Why they dissing? |
Why won’t they listen?» |
For the chimpanzees the monkey shines the funky rhymes |
I do, huh, f-f-f-fantastic |
Excellence endureth |
Goteeage grips, they toureth |
Mental oven heats the muffin for the jackals who say nothing |
Some brothers be talking about things they only seen on videos, or they heard |
it on the radio |
I ask real hip-hoppers to bring a stop to these gimmicks and industry |
investment mimics |
Now I’m bidding adieu, my salutation’s through |
Get a clue, get a grip, release the trip |
The Christian’s position in need of a physician |
Grits got the blood of Jesus dripping on renditions |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Emcees today, they got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Emcees today, they got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Ain’t saying nothing, got nothing to say |
Emcees today, they got nothing to say |
Ain’t, ain’t, saying, saying, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing |
Ain’t, ain’t, saying, saying, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing |