Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Grill Em, artist - J. R. WriterDate of issue: 24.07.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Grill Em |
| This that pick a clown size em up try ya luck |
| Playa hate, grill em down, let me see you twist ya frown |
| This that hard for real, off the charts my nillz |
| Soon as you get to the lot ock (what) start to grill |
| Show that mark a deal and you got the heart of steel |
| Scared a clown stare em down while the nigga park his wheels (do it) |
| Then head to the club to show em you a party wrecker (wrecker) |
| Grill the bouncer cause he tryin to charge you extra (charge me extra) |
| But next minute he letting in a mob of heffers (what) |
| And wanna give you a hastle at that Don detecter |
| Search and pat ya where, like a fag and queer (queer) |
| Give that fag a stare have that little cracker scared (scared) |
| If he talking bout you can’t wear ya hat in here |
| And that shit match ya gear (grill em, grill em) |
| This ain’t made for playas in the club waving paper (nope) |
| This is for those stone cold playa haters |
| Who just playa hate, spot the spot, place the place |
| And quick to lay a scrape or scuff in ya bathing apes (ohh) |
| See I be on my D-I-P |
| Cut you off while you dancing with that P-Y-T (come here) |
| Grill a bartender cause he wanna see I. D |
| And they won’t let you in that damn V.I.P. |
| Grill em |
| This that get em sound, this that get it down (down) |
| This that two step we don’t shake or spin around (no) |
| This that pick a clown size em up try ya luck |
| Playa hate, grill em down, let me see you twist ya frown |
| Don’t stop, grill em (grill em) don’t stop, grill em (grill em) |
| Don’t stop, grill em (grill em) don’t stop, grill em (grill em) |
| Don’t stop, grill em (grill em) don’t stop, grill em |
| Grill em, grill em, don’t stop |
| This that mobster shit (right) this Tupacalypse (right) |
| This that get in the club bub and pop some shit (huh) |
| This that I’m here right yeah watch ya bitch |
| He got, I ain’t got, hate on em cause he rockin it |
| What this nigga think (grill em) we don’t feel this chimp (grill em) |
| I don’t feel this chimp (grill em) we got bigger nth’s (grill em) |
| (Grill em, grill em) if he dipped in mink (what) |
| We goin wild and push the crowd till he spill his drink (do it) |
| Relax you better scrap (scrap) look I keep the piece (uhh huh) |
| We ain’t tryin to keep the peace you can go ahead with that (go head) |
| We got desserts macs that’ll leave you dead and flat |
| Fat to skinny, small to tall, dogs Spud Webber Shaq (whatever) |
| Act and get stupid, scrappy lets do it |
| Hands up if the DJ put the scratch to ya music |
| Erratic and lose it (lose it) ohh no whoa yo |
| Go low and throw bows faster than Cupid (hey) |
| That’s what a thug about (bout) that’s what thuggin bout (bout) |
| So that slouch you’s a bad mother (shut your mouth) |
| They thought it was over till you let the bluccas sprout |
| Clapped a few slugs for shouts after the club get out |