[Chorus: Pusha T & Pharrell]
Back yard to yard (Oh), yeah
What's the size of them rims on that car nigga, huh? (Grindin')
Can they see that chain from afar, nigga, huh? (Grindin')
What ya game be like? (Grindin')
What ya chain be like? (Grindin')
So what ya name be like? (Grindin')
Ma, it don't get more ghetto than this
[Verse 1: N.O.R.E. & Pharrell]
You see I'm grimy-minded, you've been blinded
Lookin' for a beat like mine, you can't find it
You hear the Clipse and N.O.R.E., gotta rewind it (Beep-beep)
Nowadays you get on the run and get finded
(Grinding) You know I got guns
Why you actin like my daughters? You know I got sons
(Grinding) Nah, we won't speak, fam
Aiming at ya collar bone, hit ya in ya cheek, fam
Grinding
[Verse 2: Pusha T]
From ghetto to ghetto to backyard to yard
I sell it whipped or un-whipped, it's soft or hard
Stand on that table, nigga, spit that Cris, nigga
Throw that chair, make 'em recognize this raw
Playa, look-a here
I'm great in the kitchen like Corning cookware
Uncle Jemima with my braids wrapped
And three-minute recipes for cookin' flapjacks
Coke price through the roof, SL, blew the coupe
My niece askin' how my rims bigger than a hula-hoop
Cuzzo, I make the block holla
Take it back to childhood how the scale teeter-totter
As I evolve, weight grew heavy
It was kinda like my buddy just fell off the see-saw
Bricks in the muffler, MAC-11 touch ya
Virgina's hustler, I'm here, motherfucker
Back yard to yard (Oh), yeah
What's the size of them rims on that car nigga, huh? (Grindin')
Can they see that chain from afar, nigga, huh? (Grindin')
What ya game be like? (Grindin')
What ya chain be like? (Grindin')
So what ya name be like? (Grindin')
Ma, it don't get more ghetto than this
[Verse 1: N.O.R.E. & Pharrell]
You see I'm grimy-minded, you've been blinded
Lookin' for a beat like mine, you can't find it
You hear the Clipse and N.O.R.E., gotta rewind it (Beep-beep)
Nowadays you get on the run and get finded
(Grinding) You know I got guns
Why you actin like my daughters? You know I got sons
(Grinding) Nah, we won't speak, fam
Aiming at ya collar bone, hit ya in ya cheek, fam
Grinding
[Verse 2: Pusha T]
From ghetto to ghetto to backyard to yard
I sell it whipped or un-whipped, it's soft or hard
Stand on that table, nigga, spit that Cris, nigga
Throw that chair, make 'em recognize this raw
Playa, look-a here
I'm great in the kitchen like Corning cookware
Uncle Jemima with my braids wrapped
And three-minute recipes for cookin' flapjacks
Coke price through the roof, SL, blew the coupe
My niece askin' how my rims bigger than a hula-hoop
Cuzzo, I make the block holla
Take it back to childhood how the scale teeter-totter
As I evolve, weight grew heavy
It was kinda like my buddy just fell off the see-saw
Bricks in the muffler, MAC-11 touch ya
Virgina's hustler, I'm here, motherfucker
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