Back To The Grill (Remix)

Lyrics

[Hook: All] Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again [Verse 1: MC Serch] You need a posse the size of the Nazis to attack this And you're more optimistic than the Sounds of Blackness Flip rhymes that rip through the chest cavity And I keep goin' and goin' just like an Energizer battery Flattery will get you nowhere, unless it's the derriere And then it gets you everywhere Went to the flea market, was in my car, I parked it Beef like blunts, if you got it, then spark it And with the fisticuffs came the fists And you've joined Steven Segal on the Marked for Death hit-list Went back to the '70s and brothers got on grins 'Cause they can step to sisters and say "Slap me some skins Honeydip", and take the squaw to the teepee Hit it off, smoke a cig, watch a little TV And if there ain't no papes, there's no show I'll just chill and return to kick 'em in the... grill [Hook: All + Red Hot Lover Tone] Back to the grill again, the grill again (Word up...) Back to the grill again, the grill again (MC Serch) Back to the grill again, the grill again (That was fly yo) Back to the grill again, the grill again (We gonna try like this, though, umm...) [Verse 2: Red Hot Lover Tone] Bust a style while I do it, if you know it, oh, you knew it If you knew it then you knew it, if I catch a punk chewin' I'mma drop the flavor fluid on his head, yep, I flew it And like Aretha Franklin, your moms is jumpin' to it So, so, so, where did you go, what do you know? So many people want to be fly like Joe G.I., E.I., oh, lots and lots And any rapper can top the Red Hot (Not!) R&B rips hip-hop (Not!) MC Serch is gonna flip-flop (Not!) All my hoes look like Sasquatch (Not!) And uh, George Bush gets enough props (Hahaha...) Well, uh, anyway, I'mma slay, slay, lay Pull a hoe around my way and make hooker soufflé Red Hot Lover Tone would like to thank MC Serch Yo, you're chill for makin' me part of history Kickin' 'em in the grill!- [Verse 3: Nas] -Finesser, keep a Tec-9 in my dresser Lyrical professor, keep ya under pressure Mind like a computer, the inserter Paragraphs of murder, the nightclub flirter This is Nas, kid, you know how it runs I'm wavin' automatic guns at nuns Stickin' up the preachers in the church, I'm a stoned crook Serial killer, who works by the phone book For you, I got a lot to shoot and songs to hear My rhymes are hotter than a prostitute with gonorrhea On the mic, I let vocabulary spill (It's like that, y'all!) That, y'all, kick 'em in the grill! [Verse 4: O.C.] You're dealing with a force that's straight up real How can you figure you're fat when I mushed the grill Draggin' can have you flip a lyric without a problem Ever heard of the Grim Reaper? Well I'm him Gambling with ya stacks when you shouldn't be rippin' Stop all that hatin', then cash your chips in I trigger the flow thinking of an old sack I'll glint 'em wit' the whiff of a gold lint known as a Figaro I got the will, the skill, give me the bill, an intentional slap Jump back or I'mma kick you in the grill [Hook: All + Chubb Rock] Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again (Check it out...) Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again [Verse 5: Chubb Rock] The Chubbsta breaks, head nods, he fakes, steady rate H The panty mix the verse, looks to Serch, kick him in the grill again Part 2, sequel of "The Dialect, The Derelict" The murder list, Vanilla kicks it to climb on the crucifix Comin' around the mountain When he comes to sell the record bumps Digest the lyrics then you suck on some Tums Crumbs with the energy from the lump sums And lips to to the mixture to the friction and then you're hummin' The door rings, yo, I'm comin' To a theater near you, get your popcorn and your brew And a Guinness Stout, check the clout when I'm about 'Cause YOU! are a BLABBERMOUTH! A blabber, it gets no badder Lyrics on a diet 'cause it gets no fatter Like a Gwen to the Guthrien, jumpin' up on the scene With the Serches with the verses, word up, the illustrious Rapper, dapper, snapper fish, you want us to sell out your wish My lips have never touched the circumference of a spliff And if you see some coke or some spill With some ill pill, yo, kick me in the grill, grill [Scratches] [Verse 6: MC Serch] So here's a true or false, tell me if it's fact or bull: You wanna kill the Klan, shoot the fans at a tractor pull Got crazy game, so no one can stop me But ayo, I'm white, I guess my game is hockey Or basketball, football, takin' papes in poker If honeydip got a moneyclip, I'm gonna stroke her Wait a minute, chill, chill, can't swing 'Cause my girl ain't my girl no more, now she got a ring Respect my wisdom like I respect myself Try the G, I'll put you in a tree just like the Keebler elves You couldn't be The Mack if you had the car, the hat, the ho And your shit would still be out the back like a patio 'Cause I saw you eatin' pig knuckles, with Frankie Knuckles In a club called Chuckles, wearin' name plate belt buckles Goddamn, your life is flimsy Gave you 'nuff respect, but took it back 'cause I was stingy So from the cons and pros to the pros and the cons Cause' I'm coming off like dressers at the Palms Serch like mob gonna kill Nasty Nas, Red Hot Lover Tone, O.C., and Chubb Rock kickin' 'em in the grill [Hook: All] Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again