[Intro: Cam'Ron]   THIS IS A REMIX   J.R WRITER...FEATURING HELL RELL, AND MYSELF... KILLA!   WE ABOUT TO LET Y'ALL MOTHERFUCKERS KNOW WHY WE RUN THE WORLD.....YA DIIIIIG?      [Bridge: JR Writer]   This that get 'em sound   This that get it down   This that 2 step, wheel shaker, spin around   This that pick a clown, size him up, try ya luck   Playa hate, grill him down...lemme see you twist ya frown      [Cam'Ron   KILLA!   They got guns, well maybe they'll squeeze / (maybe they'll squeeze)   I'm a piano I got 88 keys (88 keys)   Mami sniffed it, it went to baby brain (wooo)   Road the subway now I'm on the gravy train (aiiiiii!)   What you call balling, all y'all boring   Knock his teeth on the grill, "Paul Wall foreman"   All these pricks, I took weed trips   "Tore the club up", yep, on that 3 6 (Three Six Mafia)   I'm the realest of cats, and I'm still where it's at   I been broke with the South, trill to the trap   Stealing, wheeling caps I been peeling them back (back)   We dealing you squealing, we killing the rats (rats!)   Santana.....KILL EM KILL EM KILL EM, KILL EM!   J.R...GRILL EM GRILL EM GRILL EM, GRILL EM!   I will pop you while I'm popping a pop-a-wheel   Paid In Full not the deal...put him in Potter's Field      [Hook: JR Writer]   DON'T STOP, GRILL EM!   DON'T STOP, GRILL EM!   DON'T STOP, GRILL EM!   DON'T STOP, GRILL EM!   DON'T STOP, GRILL EM, GRILL EM, GRILL EM, GRILL EM, GRILL EM   DON'T STOP, GRILL EM!      [Hell Rell]   Mr. Ruger picture a coward confronting me   Nature's mad because the trunk is in the front of me / (foreign)   Gangsta's on In the back of me, hammer on the hip of me   Hand full of piffery, damn I know they sick of me   They gon' say the boy's the hardest this year   And I'm a G so, I'ma eat regardless this year   Come to the crib, yeah it's retarded in there   Big screens, suede couches, bunch of marble in there   Damn, undercover hating, shit just let it out   And why ya hair done ma, all you gon' do is sweat it out   Go through any nigga town and Dipset it out   Shit they'd rather set him up then just set him out   Make these nigga's bleed, make 'em blood donors   And they don't wanna let me in, smack the club owner   Got shades on, I'm always high bitch   You looking at a star, I ain't even in the sky bitch      [Hook]      [Bridge: JR Writer]   This that get 'em sound   This that get it down   This that 2 step, wheel shaker, spin around      [J.R Writer]   The sporty is foreign, shorty's adoring (all day)   Fuck if the couches are suede, my Mauries are on 'em (fuck it)   I'm fresh head to toe check how bad the don bling   A thousand grams, chain got a Barry Bonds swing (bling!)   I get her with the swag, then get 'em with the Jag (errrr!)   What's on my left sleeve is what get 'em to the pad   Them chickens in a bag, you ain't fresh in my eyes   I ain't doing nothing to her but she's letting me slide   From the floor to the bathroom, hall to the backroom   Then dog out the whore, on his balls like a vacuum   Mack 'em and duck to the back of the bus   She's a scraggler and yup, she ain't wack but she sucks   If you act like a scrap then in back is a truck (with what?)   Where they packing a Mac with some caps for you smucks   Huh, I can't stand to slouch, you know what fam's about   She ask to see my grill so I pulled the Phantom out (look at this grill)      [Hook]      [Outro: JR Writer]   This that get 'em sound   This that get it down   This that 2 step, wheel shaker, spin around   This that pick a clown, size him up, try ya luck   Playa hate, grill him down... lemme see you twist ya frown