Lyrics Grit's Den - The Last Poets

Dude went mad and started to jump bad
Pulling his roscoe out of his slide
Just then Grits shouted the cue "telephone for you"
Interrupting a sure homicide
Everybody froze as Spoon and I rose with our pieces in our hands
Spoon scooped up the dough then we moved away slow
'Cause we had other plans

We had made a 110 grand on that last poker hand
Bringing our total up to 172
I figured we'd pay off Grit, then sky up and split
Now that our work was through
Grit had two of his men escort us back to his den
While two more posed as our doubles
They covered our backs against any sneak attacks
In case we should run into trouble
He was beaming with pride when we stepped inside
And greeted us like we were his sons
He slapped us five then started rapping this jive
About how happy he was that we won

"I dig you cats
I dig y'all to where it's at
But y'all gon' have to give off sixty percent
You see I got to give my bosses a cut
Or else they'll bury my butt
'Cause I'm four months behind in the rent
Now I know how you feel, but that's the deal
Sorry but my hands are tied
Them greys got the odds all stacked
Plus y'all are covered from the back
So please keep your hands from your side
Just turn around slow
And hand 'em over the dough
And I'll see to it that nobody gets hurt
And if y'all do as you're told
You might live to grow old
And you won't have to bite the dirt"