NAS, MC SERCH - Back To The Grill lyrics

rate me

Back to the grill again, the grill again

You need a posse the size of the Nazis to attack this

And you're more optomistic than the Sounds of Blackness

Flip lines that rip through the chest cavity

And I keep going and going just like an Energizer battery

Flattery will get you nowhere, unless it's the derriere

And that'll get you everywhere

Went to the flea market, was in the cark, parked it

Big fat 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 hitlist

Went back to the 70's and brothers got on grants

Cause they can step to some sisters and say "Slap me some skins"

Honeydip, and take the squad 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

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

Imma drop the flavor fluid on his head, yep I flew it

And like Aretha Franklin, your moms is jumping to it

So, so, so, where did you go, what do ya know

SO many people want to be fly like Joe

G.I., E.I., oh lots and lots

And 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 George Bush gets nuff props

Well, anyway, Imma slay slay lay

Pull a hoe around my way and make hooker souffle

Red Hot Lover Tone would like to thank MC Serch

Yo, you're chill for making me a part of history

Kicking em in the grill

Finesse, keep a Tech-9 in my dresser

Lyrical professor, keep you 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 waving automatic guns at nuns

Sticking up the preachers in the church, I'm a stone crook

Serial killer, who works by the phone book

For you I got a lot to shoot my songs in here

My rhymes are hotter than a prostitute with ghonnerea

On the mic I let vocabulary spill

(It's like that y'all) That y'all, kick em in the grill

The Chubbsta breaks ?stabbabi? 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 Derelect"

The murder licks, Vanilla kicks alive on the crucifix

Coming around the mountain, when he comes to sell more record bums

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

Hummmmmmming, the door rings, yo I'm coming

To a theater near you, get your popcorn and your brew

And a Guiness 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 Gewn to the Guthrien, jumping up on the scene

With the Serches with the verses

Word up, the illustrious

Rapper dapper sapper, 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

So here's a true and false, tell me if it's factable

You wanna kill the Klan, shoot the fans 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, taking 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

To to G I'll put you in a tree like the Keebler elves

You couldn't be The Mack if you had the car, the hat, the hoe

And your shit would still be out the back like a patio

Cause I saw you eating pig knuckles, with Frankie Knuckles

In a bar called Chuckles wearing name plate belt buckles

Goddamn your life is flimsy

Gave you nuff respect, but gave it back cause I was stingy

So from the cons and pros to the pros and the cons

Call me a motherfucker I'll say "Yeah I fucked your moms"

Until she calls back I'm gonna chill

Peace to Red Hot Lover Tone, Chubb Rock, kick em in the grill