The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
Nine-eight (2X)
Ahhh
Hit licks, Florida Keys
Old players, old cheese
Smoke blunts, burn leaves
Take fronts, gold trees
Anytime, any grind
Any gun, I don't care
Won't snitch, when in doubt
Top ?, blood's red
Snap quick, trap quicker
Tony Montana, hot Atlanta
Fuck Santa, fuck jail
Fuck a cop, fuck a bail!
You're dead wrong, headstrong
Dick long, got weight
Crime rate, love/hate
They killed Nate, fuck Nate
Sto' Eddie, real steel
Real grill, real shitty
Georgia boys, Georgia girls
Strap up, a real city
See I ain't guilty, the game's filthy
Ask Nino, judge booked a
county time, 7th flo'
For that, shot em both
Trunk one, punk one
Just me, straight hard
Blackheart, lion-heart
Get smart and rip your ass apart
I'm in the, golden tank, no dank
No drank, no bank
Bad times, writtin rhymes
Doin crimes, we on da grind
..
Watch me, raise up
Feet down, triggerman
Spitterman, biggerman
Mama's man, never ran
Hit the fan, hard we
White bwoy, (him) country
Outdone, trigger happy
Hair nappy, my grandpappy
Hit the streets, on track
Tree onions, freeze up!
Re-up, my trap
My grip, hollow tips!
The projects, still kills
Hard times, bad crimes
Got mines, hoes ridin
I'm lyin, fiends buyin
I ain't sleepin, pockets leakin
Hoes freakin, I'm smokin
Grippin oak in, Shaboken
Sun soakin, gun pokin
Break cool, full gat
Bulletman, you all die
Gangstafied, gangsta ties
Crossed the T's, dottin I's
Foldin G's, one point five
Plushed out, hooped out
No doubt, big clout
Wrong route, knocked out
Foe who? Memories
Street thang, big 'caine
Big game, big pain
Insane, we on da grind nigga
..
(Wicked!!!)
Hit licks, Florida Keys
Old players, old cheese
Smoke blunts, burn leaves
Take fronts, gold trees
Anytime, anywhere
Any gun, I don't care
Won't snitch, when in doubt
Top ?, blood's red
I snap quick, trapped quicker
Tony Montana, hot Atlanta
Fuck Santa, fuck jail
Fuck cops, fuck bail!
You're dead wrong, headstrong
Dick long, got weight
Crime rate, ? rate
Love/hate, they killed Nate
They sto' Eddie, real steel
Real grill, real shitty
Georgia boys, Georgia girls
Strap up, a real city
I'm not guilty, the game's filthy
Ask Wicked, judge booked a
county time, 7th flo'
Fuck that, shot em both
I jump one, punk one
Just me, straight hard
Blackheart, lion-heart
Get smart and rip your ass apart
Golden tank, no drink
No drank, no dank
Bad times, writtin rhymes
Doin times, we on da grind nigga
Ahhh
Hit licks, Florida Keys
Old players, old cheese
Smoke blunts, burn leaves
Take fronts, gold trees
Anytime, any grind
Any gun, I don't care
Won't snitch, when in doubt
Top ?, blood's red
Snap quick, trap quicker
Tony Montana, hot Atlanta
Fuck Santa, fuck jail
Fuck a cop, fuck a bail!
You're dead wrong, headstrong
Dick long, got weight
Crime rate, love/hate
They killed Nate, fuck Nate
Sto' Eddie, real steel
Real grill, real shitty
Georgia boys, Georgia girls
Strap up, a real city
See I ain't guilty, the game's filthy
Ask Nino, judge booked a
county time, 7th flo'
For that, shot em both
Trunk one, punk one
Just me, straight hard
Blackheart, lion-heart
Get smart and rip your ass apart
I'm in the, golden tank, no dank
No drank, no bank
Bad times, writtin rhymes
Doin crimes, we on da grind
..
Watch me, raise up
Feet down, triggerman
Spitterman, biggerman
Mama's man, never ran
Hit the fan, hard we
White bwoy, (him) country
Outdone, trigger happy
Hair nappy, my grandpappy
Hit the streets, on track
Tree onions, freeze up!
Re-up, my trap
My grip, hollow tips!
The projects, still kills
Hard times, bad crimes
Got mines, hoes ridin
I'm lyin, fiends buyin
I ain't sleepin, pockets leakin
Hoes freakin, I'm smokin
Grippin oak in, Shaboken
Sun soakin, gun pokin
Break cool, full gat
Bulletman, you all die
Gangstafied, gangsta ties
Crossed the T's, dottin I's
Foldin G's, one point five
Plushed out, hooped out
No doubt, big clout
Wrong route, knocked out
Foe who? Memories
Street thang, big 'caine
Big game, big pain
Insane, we on da grind nigga
..
(Wicked!!!)
Hit licks, Florida Keys
Old players, old cheese
Smoke blunts, burn leaves
Take fronts, gold trees
Anytime, anywhere
Any gun, I don't care
Won't snitch, when in doubt
Top ?, blood's red
I snap quick, trapped quicker
Tony Montana, hot Atlanta
Fuck Santa, fuck jail
Fuck cops, fuck bail!
You're dead wrong, headstrong
Dick long, got weight
Crime rate, ? rate
Love/hate, they killed Nate
They sto' Eddie, real steel
Real grill, real shitty
Georgia boys, Georgia girls
Strap up, a real city
I'm not guilty, the game's filthy
Ask Wicked, judge booked a
county time, 7th flo'
Fuck that, shot em both
I jump one, punk one
Just me, straight hard
Blackheart, lion-heart
Get smart and rip your ass apart
Golden tank, no drink
No drank, no dank
Bad times, writtin rhymes
Doin times, we on da grind nigga
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
On da Grind Lyrics as written by Kenneth Gamble Fred Pilgrim
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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@[Diderik:33655] "Your a holiday!" Was a popular term used in the 50s/60s to compliment someone on their all around. For example, not only are they beautiful, but they are fun and kind too ... just an all around "holiday".
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