O Tussin! O mores!

The rapper who went by the edifying moniker "Pimp C" turns out to have expired from an overserving of cough syrup. I don't suppose it's as embarrassing a way to die as, say, autoerotic asphyxiation, but still, jeez. It appears from the unintentionally funny New York Times piece on Mr. C and the Houston hip-hop scene from which he emerged, cough syrup is to them what absinthe was to 19th-century Paris. James Poulos, having read the Times piece, puts it all in perspective for us:

It’s a solemn occasion when somebody dies, and I do recognize that getting high often…okay, sometimes…makes for inspirational brilliance. But I am the only person hesitant about joining in the celebration of a dude who organized his life — and music — around getting wasted off cough syrup? Is this really what it’s come to? Illustrious? Triumphant? Can any song about drinking a bottle of Tussin be triumphant? Is the best way to describe such a song thrillingly unexpurgated? Having to have this conversation is itself a hallucinatory experience. An upside is that the People of the Future will be able to leaf through the Paper of Record, come across this gem, and realize just what we were all up against.

Now, now, James. I'll have you know that after smoking five Halls Mentho-Lyptus cough drops, a fellow can write the awesomest Symbolist poetry.

I did wonder, tho', what the Times critic meant by calling the degenerate Pimp C's lyrics "thrillingly unexpurgated." I've placed the answer (the lyrics to one of Pimp C's big hits) on extended entry below. Warning: poetry this thrillingly unexpurgated is not for the faint of heart. In fact, it's rather purgative. The poor Vogons are a bunch of Mallarmes compared to this guy.

"Sippin' On Some Syrup"(feat. U.G.K.)

Sippin' on some siz-erp, sip, sippin' on some, sip
[Repeat 8x]

[Pimp C]
I'm trill working the wheel, a pimp not a simp
Keep the dope fiends higher than the Goodyear Blimp
We eat so many shrimp, I got iodine poisoning
Fuck niggas make me sick with all that pinchin' and bargaining
You say that you a boss, I ain't believing that shit
You got the funny Geneva watch, with the Ferrari kit
Take that monkey shit off, you embarrassing us
I got the wet promenthazine, thick orange and yellow tuss
Hydrocor-zone, on the hands-free phone
The '84 zone, on them blades, 20-inch chrome
If you got 16, you can get a biz-zerd
I'm choking on that doja sweet and sipping on that sizz-erp

[DJ Paul]
Niggas scared to flaunt it, some niggas they want it want it
Some niggas they joan it joan it, but I be fucked up up on it
We're with the Mafia 6, and we ain't bout that bullshit
If we gon' get high we gon' get high, and we gon' house a bitch
Two niggas all at the mouth, two niggas all at the ass
And plus there's some type of nigga
Dick hard all night and she cool with that
She popped her a pill of X, and drank on some orange juice
And just when you thought she was freakin' she done got super loose
Niggas come in by threes and deuces all in circles like duck-duck-goose
All that want it can bone it, she on that X and that tootie fruit
40 dollars for just one ounce ounce plus
Tuss and X is how its pronounced
Niggas sipping and dipping and tripping, man I'm bout all out

Sippin' on some siz-erp, sip, sippin' on some, sip
[Repeat 4x]

[Juicy J]
People always asking me, "Me the Three 6 high on that"
Rolling on them X pills, stuttering pup-pup powder packs
Woah-wuh where the weed at, ain't like that we need that
Nyquil will slow me down, something that keep me easy
Nothing like that yella yella that will have you itching man
Talking like you "What's up, fool?" Vocal chords sounding lame
In my days all we did was chief out on a quarter pound
Gone on coke, eyes are bucked, this here shit will knock you down
Knock you out, make you fall asleep when you're on them wheels
Ain't no doubt, hit me when I beep for this refill
Once again, on my wicked high, gotta have that drank
Heard my name, Gino, I feel like I'm gonna fucking faint

[Bun B]
Nigga tell me what you know bout Frank, Nito and Young Guido
Paul and Vito, we play a tune it sweeter than Pedito
With my Three 6 nigga pouring up in my southern creedo
Quick fast, we'll put it on your ass like John Vito
Cause you fronting rap sanger, be creamy like a Zanger
You ain't from the manger boy, but you gets the middle finger
Come bang her, rum dranker, occaisionally take
Your bitch to the Telly and be a dick and cum slanger
When Big Bun come danger, nigga ring your alarm
Sexy thang on my arm, cup of drank in my palm
And that crazy shit, I'm tripping on some skinny bitches
Something that's wholesome, Florida to Folsom
And for the most I'm steady sippin' on some sizzerp

Sippin' on some siz-erp, sip, sippin' on some, sip
[Repeat til fade]