Guard Your Grill

Hit him, hit him, yeah, let go
Damn
Has this ever happened to you?
Can you name this tune?
If these victims knew how to guard they grill
This would've never happened

I put two and two together, and I came up with four
Your forever, for God forbid, and shouldn't have to say much more
I been through more crews than a flu, yeah, I'll show you
You're so damned scrap, I bet you Bo don't know you
You tried to get cool and say peace, save that piece for a jigsaw
Sit back and watch a real MC get raw
I never know, never know when another will come to diss this
But if and whenever they come, I'm running this merry fist-mas

I shook up the crook and shook up the fake to get like a quick stick
It's just another one done and diss dismissed
Kitty-guard your grill, well, be for real, you ain't built
I'm silly-ho smackin MC's on a ninety-degree tilt
The reason that it's tilted 'cause you're guilty, too hard to guard
It's not you're tryin' too gay, you're tryin' too hard
How hard can your guard be, I say what's up?
Guard your grill, knuckle up, put 'em up, yup

Guard your grill, knuckle up
I ain't the type to give up
Guard your grill, knuckle up
I swung first, so what's up?
Guard your grill, knuckle up
Put 'em up, you ain't tough
Guard your grill, knuckle up

I give 'em much business, an Aspirin, damn, I love a glass chin
What are you, askin' for mercy? I'm laughin', huh
You know the game, you know the name, and you know the rep
You know the Kay, you know the Vin, and you know the Treach
There's no sleeping, no nodding, no restin', hey
No snoozin', no dozin', no effin' way
Everything's up like a Coke cup
Wind me up, but y'all, I gets the low with the rough stuff
And havin' enough to cut you off a piece and still have 'nough
To go around to them and him because won't pluck

I, I got a posse full of fighters, all fly like a chopper
You still couldn't take 'em out 'cause they was rowdy hip-hoppers
They stole much gold from roast and random door-knockers
My nuts are my only homies that can hang proper
The school, I had a locker filled with VCRs and vodka
I had two girls, one a runner, one a trotter
Back then, I wore briefs 'til I started gettin' hotter
Then I grew yay long, so I had to switch to boxers
How hard can your guard be, I say what's up?
Guard your grill, knuckle up, put 'em up, duck

Guard your grill, knuckle up
I ain't the type to give up
Guard your grill, knuckle up
I swung first, so what's up?
Guard your grill, knuckle up
Put 'em up, you ain't tough
Guard your grill, knuckle up

I don't lay, I lie, who knows? Like Pinocchio
Never been to Tokyo, on keyboards, Dave Bellochio
Guard your grill, here's a feel, I rush hard
I got the flyest ride out here, a '91 bus card
So callin' me for a ride ain't the answer, huh
You want a lift, you better pick up a transfer
Sayin' we were good for one cut, now we're dead
Oh, yeah? That's 'bout as funny as Barbara Bush in a bobsled

Now, how wrong can you be to think we play?
Even a broken clock is right at least twice a day
So now you're feelin' real low, you no-flow crow
You slow hobo, stiffer than robo, oh
Here's another side of bein' real quick
You might sneak and fall like cracks, but you still ain't shh
So don't try to no same-style battle cry
I rock the U train, the rules that I battle by

I listen to censorship, entered it quite slow
Come out of that white robe, shoot a felon with a psycho
Put down your handgun, up with your hands, son
Look how I stand calm, I ain't the damned one
I was only three steps from a peace prize
Piece of his leg, piece of his eye and his left thigh
Knuckle up, put 'em up, yeah, guard your grill
And that's comin' from Illtown, down the hill

Guard your grill, knuckle up
I ain't the type to give up
Guard your grill, knuckle up
I swung first, so what's up?
Guard your grill, knuckle up
Put 'em up, you ain't tough
Guard your grill, knuckle up

This goes out to the 118th Street Posse
My man, J Scratch, in the house, you know what I'm sayin'?
And oh yeah, pss-pss-pss-pss
Don't forget, guard your grill, knuckle up
A strong what up to my man, Kid Capri
This goes out to my man, Jack Don
I gotta say what's up to my man, Pop Dezzy Dezza
What's up to Clark Kent and my man Face

This goes out to my man Fitz and the whole Down the Hill
'Cause they know how to definitely guard they grill
I gotta say what's up to my man, Dre, and he's in the house
This goes out to my man, Tamere, he's definitely in here
What's up to my homie, Kool G Rap, and my Brand Nubian brothers
Special shoutout to my man, Grand Puba, one of the fiercest MCs out there
Peace goes out
Peace to my man, Frank Ben, we outta here
Peace