Back To the Grill

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 "Serch'll never stand still" 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 seventy's 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 Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Word up! MC Serch, that was fly We gonna try like this, though, um Bust a style while I do it If you know it or you knew it If you knew it then you knew it, if I catch a punk chewin' I'ma 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 'nuff props (ha-ha-ha) Well, uh, anyway, I'ma slay, slay, lay Pull a hoe around my way and make hooker soufflé, uh 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! Finesser, keep a TEC-nine 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 stone 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! Back to the grill again, the grill again "Jump, jump, with the man, with the plan, Chubb Rock" Back to the grill again, the grill again "Jump, jump, with the man, with the plan, Chubb Rock" The Chubbsta breaks in oddy fakes, then her aids the panty Mix the verse, flips to Serch, "Kick 'Em In The Grill" again Part 2, sequel of 'The Derelicts of Dialect' The murder licks, Vanilla kicks it to climb on the crucifix Burnin' around the mountain when he comes to sell the record bumps Digest the lyrics, then you suck on some Tums Crumbs with the MSG from the lump sums Elixir 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 clot, when I'm about 'Cause you! are a blabbernouth A blabber, it gets no badder Lyrics on a diet 'cause it gets no fatter Like a Gwen to the Guthrie and Jumpin' up on the scene, with the Serches with the verses Word up, the illustrian 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! Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again "So get up and get down" "Serch'll never stand still" 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, aiyyo, I'm white, I guess my game is hockey Or basketball, football, takin' papes in poker If honeydip got a money clip, 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 Call me a motherfucker, I'll say, "Yeah, I fucked ya moms!" Until she calls back, I'm gonna chill Peace to Red Hot Lover Tone, Chubb Rock, kick 'em in the grill 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, "Serch'll never stand still" Back to the grill again, the grill again "Jump, jump, with the man, with the plan, Chubb Rock" Back to the grill again, the grill again "Jump, jump, with the man, with the plan, Chubb Rock" Back to the grill again, the grill again Back to the grill again, the grill again "Damn" "Serch'll never stand still" 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 Back to the grill again, the grill again "Serch'll never stand still" Back to the grill again, the grill again "So get up and get down!"