Text: Grits. The Art Of Translation. Make Room.

[Intro]
That's when you know a group is hip
Is when your parents say
What is it with the hippy, hip, hip, hippy glows?
And you can't understand a word they are sayin'

Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
Oh yeah, back on up

[Chorus]
Make room, 'cause we about to start swelling
Catching attitude, get buck sweat it up
And really lose cool, its what we been commissioned to do
So back on up and give me room, we gotta keep makin' moves

[Grits]
My long range aim is dedicated to change
Persist to twist brains with rhymes, only God can explain
Attain divine intervention if your attentions arrested
Imprisoned and in position to listen to lessons given

[Grits]
Gotta make moves steadily, heavily bruising these dudes
We got the gift, but abuse tools misleading these youths see
My birthright is light in the darkness of night
To lead the lost paying the price of sacrificing my life

[Grits]
I've been sittin' and contemplating waiting anxiously peeking
Perception of these releases embracing the deeper reasons
Of timing and perfect season believing this thing is bigger
Than faces and sound scan reaching for the completion

[Grits]
Of purpose in promised land watchin' behind the curtain
For certain the game is hurtin' looking for some solution
Searchin' for revolution like music is the conclusion
Refusing to look at life a livion for forward movement

[Chorus x2]

[Bridge]
Move cowards, move all you cowards move
Move cowards, move all you cowards move
Move cowards, move all you cowards move
He scared, she scared and if you scared then move

[Grits]
Oh God, don't let me act up I feel a fit comin' on
My conniption's, my conviction's reaction to what's goin' on
My rebuttal's far from subtle, take you there just like a shuttle
Gather round the huddle embrace the pace
I spit at give it a kiss and cuddle

[Grits]
Boy what's that there you sayin'?
I'm tight like the shorts that men look gay in
Oh Lordy, you don' said too much
My slightest touch is a cobra clutch

[Grits]
Let it be known, we are the epitomy of strange and bizarre
Swichin' up and change our repertoire, come discover who we are
Wreaking havoc on Satan's mavericks through a labyrinth
filled with Nooks and crannies, an elite group called the factors

[Grits]
We like the X-Men so uncanny, imagine looking
Up seeing the plastered ceiling cracking, it ain't because
We broke, we lost our minds for God provoked and crazy actin'

[Chorus x4]

[Outro]
The beat is so crazy