It’s been two weeks since Pimp C’s death. Last Thursday he was buried in Port Arthur. Reading through all of the eulogies and obituaries that have poured out of the local papers, the blogs, the national media, and the rap community since December 4th, you obviously will see trends. Everyone immediately identifies Pimp C by his drawl and how he rhymed through his vowels, and it seems as though this – his voice - will be a big part of his legacy, along with his production and his pioneer status as an early and consistent member of the Texas rap scene.

But I don’t think Pimp gets his due credit until you mention how he rapped – not how he sounded or what he said, but what his mind did when he heard a beat and wrote down some words and connected the two in the booth. What I heard in Pimp was a guy who always wanted to be the best rapper in the room even if he wasn’t the best pure lyricist. Between just him and Bun-B, Pimp was never the better poet, per se. Occasionally he would best his friend’s verse, but there’s no question that, particularly in the second half of their career, Bun was the more lyrically adept of the two.

Yet, Pimp was often the better “rapper” or at least one on equal footing as Bun. Part of it was the voice, part of it was his capabilities as his producer and his propensity for making tracks that he sounded great on. But both of these things are just pieces of his unheralded competence at performing raps. Armed with lesser words, Pimp pulled every punch in his delivery – the drawl, the vowels, the way he rode a beat, the effortlessness, the endless posturing. You can count on one hand the number of big name rappers who ever sounded as consistently comfortable on a track as Pimp.

And that’s how he won ballgames. On “International Players Anthem,” Pimp C is overmatched by Andre 3000, Big Boi, and Bun B, three of the best rappers of the last decade and all better lyricists than Pimp. His verse is the simplest, but it’s also the highlight of the track. Part of it is the help he gets from Three 6’s production, but more crucial is Pimp’s understanding that, yeah, after Andre’s verse this shit is about to liftoff and maybe people don’t want to hear tongue-twisters. Maybe they just want something that sounds good. So he seals himself airtight to the beat and contradicts 3000’s delicacy, yelling out catch phrases like “Money on the dresser / Drives a Compressor” that aren’t necessarily Tupac 2k7, but are the seven most effective words in the whole song because of his flow.

There’s another song called “Big Pimpin” by one Shawn Carter where Pimp C pulls the third verse behind a near-his-prime Jay-Z and one of Bun-B’s best verses to date. Bun’s verse is the strongest, but Pimp C keeps himself in the game with the same tactic – if Bun and Jay are going double-time virtuosic, he’ll do the opposite. He raps at regular speed, keeping his words metered and punctual and his language straightforward. His verse is memorable (“Smoking out, pouring up”) because it’s so simple and catchy.

There are plenty of other examples – on the three best straight-UGK tracks from Underground Kingz (“Swisha and Dosha”, “The Game Belongs To Me”, and “How Long Can It Last”) I’d argue that Pimp is the better rapper. I’d also be remiss to not add that Bun outraps Pimp a number of times as well and is no slouch at delivery. But the thing with Bun is that if you see one of his verses on paper, you see his talent. Most of Pimp’s best verses all start to pale when you transcribe them.

As it were, one of the few that doesn’t is the last verse on “Living This Life,” the song that closes Kingz. Excellently rapped but also lyrically vivid, it’s eloquent on a level that critics always say rap’s not and wonderfully contradicts my opening premise: maybe Pimp C was the best lyricist in the room.

You can (and should) listen above. From “Living This Life”:

I know you bless the child that go get it
I’m the product of the ghetto, the flame of the city
So I talk the language of the ave
Forgive my dirty mouth please, I’m whipping slabs
Fifties, quarters, and the whole thangs
Balancing my life on the four beam
And I need codeine just to stay sane
I’m steady praying to you but I don’t know your real name