Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Guard Your Grill, artist - Naughty By Nature. Date of issue: 02.09.1991
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Guard Your Grill |
| Hello, it’s '91. |
| Buckle up, guard your grill! |
| Hee hee |
| (Har what the fuck?) |
| Has this ever happened to you? |
| Can you name this tune? |
| These victims knew how to guard they grill, this would’ve never happened! |
| Verse 1: Treach |
| I put two and two together and I came up with four |
| You are forever, forgot, forbid, shouldn’t have to say much more |
| I been thru more crews than a flute, yeah I’ll show ya This is so damned scrap I betcha bro don’t know ya You tried to get cool and say peace, save that peace for a jigsaw |
| Stay 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 runnin this merry fist miss |
| I shooker the crook and shaker the fake to get like a quick stick |
| It’s just another one dud and is 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 cos 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 wuz 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 smoke first, so what’s up Guard your grill, knuckle up Put em up, you ain’t tough |
| Guard your grill, knuckle up! |
| Verse 2: Treach |
| I give em much business, an Aspirin |
| Damn, I love a glass chin |
| What are ya 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 sleepin, no nottin, no rest and hey |
| No snoozin, no dozin, no f’in way |
| Heapin things up like a Coke cup |
| Wind me up but y’all I gets the low wits tha rough stuff |
| And after enough to cut ya off a piece, still have nuff |
| Then go around to them and him because ??? |
| ??? |
| I I got posse full a fighters all fly like a chopper |
| Use to couldn’t take em out cos they was rowdy hip-hoppers |
| There’s so much gold for roast, the ??? |
| don’t knock us My nuts are my only homies that can hang proper |
| At school I had a lot, I filled with VCR’s and Vodka |
| I had two girls, one a runner, one a trotter |
| Back then I wore briefs, tella starter, gettin hotter |
| Then I grew yea 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 |
| Verse 3: Treach |
| I don’t lay, I lie, who knows like Pinnochio |
| Never been to Tokyo or *?Keeper's Day Bolochio?* |
| Guard your grill, here’s a feel, I rush hard |
| I got the fliest ride out here, the '91 bus card |
| So callin me for a ride ain’t the answer |
| Huh, you want a lift ya better pick up a transfer |
| Sayin we will go for one cut, now we’re dead |
| Oh yaeh, 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 ya feelin real low, ya no flow-crow |
| You slow hobo, stiffer than Robo |
| Oh, here’s another side of bein real quick |
| You might speak it fulla cracks, but you still ain’t shhh… |
| So don’t try at those same style battle cry |
| I rock the U-train, the routes that I battle by I listen to sister shit, it til they quite slow |
| No matter that white rap, shoot a pharoah with a psycho |
| Put down ya handgun, up which’cha hands son |
| Look cops they come, I ain’t the damned one |
| I was only three steps from a peace prize |
| Pieces laid, piece of his eyes and his left thigh |
| Knuckle up, put em up, yeah guard your grill |
| And that’s comin from Illtown, down the hill |
| Outro: |
| This goes out to the 118th Street Posse |
| My man J Scratch in the house, y’knowhutI’msayin? |
| And oh yaeh, 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 |
| Cos they know how to definitely guard they grill |
| I gotta say what’s up to my man Dre and Easy in the house |
| This goes out to my man Tamere |
| He’s definitely in here |
| What’s up to my homey Kool G Rap and my Brand Nubian brothers |
| Special shoutout to my man Grand Puba, one of the fiercest MC’s out |
| there |
| Peace goes out! |
| Peace to my man Frank Ben, we outta here |
| PEACE! |