Back To The Grill (Remix)

[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