Lyrics:

Yo, Malik Blunt (What's up?)
Tell me how you like your grits, man
(Man I like all kinds of grits, son, I just don't like them sticky)
What's up with you Black Thought, man, what's up?
Word, organic, groovy stew grits with cheese and mad honey
That ain't nuttin', man!
That's the grits that needs cash, man!
(I like my grits with sugar, man, I like them with some butter)
Sweet and smooth, man

Who gets the grits? (Say what?)
Bust it, let a brother tell another about the real grits getter

Now, me? I'm out to get the grits more than a little bit
If I said, 'Don't get it, black', you know I'd be a hypocrite
Levels often fluctuate to surplus from deficit
Rated with the X is the X-tra X-plicit grits
I, slides and slips and dives and dips
Into it, it being grits that I gets like a quaker
But take the raincoats for the oats
When you crush trail mix yo, I dig my grits fixed slow in butter
You slip up in the grits and make 'em other
Some people call it skins, but grits is the other term
That you gots to learn to keep up on all the scoop
I get a little ends, but never spends loot for the wiggle
Some immature kids like to laugh so, they giggle
For the grits and when they get close, they start skitzin'
Not this kid, because I switched and flipped and
Changed the position that I hits in-side
I glide, words can't describe how I move, be
Like hittin' a doobie, Thought'll get ya groovy, so!
Yo, black, here's a bit of advice — your wife's nice
So you better keep the girls away from the grits getter

Who gets the grits? (Say what?)
Bust it, let a brother tell another about the real grits getter

Yeah, I likes to unzip it, strip it to grip it
To be specific, I won't lick it so get the ticket
Flip it like it was a coin, put the loins in the groins
In other words the groins I stretch, now you gets the sketch
You, know I use my mark like the one on Noah's Ark
But if I happen to see a spark, I um... parks my bark
Guess I has to rest my lumber for the next number to sum
But so I can't slumber or sleep, my shovel's diggin' deep
Peep this hick whose name was Vickie, gettin' tricky, rather slicky
Her performance showed endurance
She said, 'Me like to licky licky'
Body more gracious, or should I say bodacious
Took my order then she sorta served me like she was a waitress
Never will I say that she was tasteless
Maker of the pastry, so's I calls her pastress
Still enthused 'cause I got my cruise on
P-O-L-O blues on, when I choose to move, I puts my shoes on
Protection against infection
Erect projections travels south in your mouth
Like a dentist checked in, commence to be intent
She said, 'I can't understand you, but damn you like Prince'
I make it feel like a Zulu, from Honolulu
By the way she roll away like a dog who name was Ubu
They also said the way I enter from the center is adventurous
Imprint on you dentures when I bust or I thrust
Mid-Atlantic, they act like a schizophrenic
Sometimes they panic like I'm Diggin' on a Planet
I don't got a Bimmer or a Jetta, see Kareem
Malik is the slick grits getter

Who gets the grits? (Say what?)
Bust it, let a brother tell another about the real grits getter

I would be lyin' if I told you I could not
Prepare a fat bowl of sticky, grits for a quickie
Humans get picky and judge it by the thickness
But if it bends your spoon, then add some butter with the quickness
I might get a bit smoother if you move her to a better position
That's probably what she wishin'
You can add some groovy spices to give it extra
But my advice is to first let it simmer
Hot, if it's hot then let the pot sit and cool
'Cause if you spill your milk, we label you beginner
Humans gotta know that I keep my bowl full of grits
Swingin' with their daughters while their parents throwin' fits
Tellin' me to change my diet plan, to Bran cereal
Or rice, I tried that twice, it didn't work
In fact, it made my milk kinda sour
Half and half, part creamer, and skeemer
That's why if it's grits then it gotta be organic
'Cause if it's artificial, I panic

Who gets the grits? (Say what?)
Bust it, let a brother tell another about the real grits getter

Yo, man, what about me, man?
*everybody clowns*
Yo, man, just pass your grits, man

Who gets the grits? Now, let me tell ya
A plenty posse bloom from the cellar
To nail ya daughter or your sister, the younger skins elixir
Kick a cat but I won't lick a cat, I'll figure
I'd rather play the thigh kisser, sister
I don't die swift and yo, I'm not a quitter
So umm... let me place my hands upon that waist and trace
My way to the right nip and left nip then sip
Similac, until my Jimmy grows fat
Grab my pack of hats from the back
Then flee to the next block to knock off socks
Yo, you know my props, so father, don't bother
'Cause once the grits is hot, yo, they're good as got

Who gets the grits? (Say what?)
Bust it, let a brother tell another about the real grits getter