Lyrics Grand Finale - Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz feat. Bun B, Fat Joe, Ice Cube, Nas & T.I.

"Yeeeeah! (Yeeeeah!)
It's been a long journey getting to this motherfuckin' point
Of this Crunk Juice shit (What?!)
But we done got to the last
Motherfuckin' song, niggas (Last shit niggas!)
And I got five of the hottest motherfuckin' emcees in the
World (okay), givin' you that gangsta shit! (It's UGK for life)
(Free Pimp C) It's the motherfuckin' Grand Finale" (Free Pimp C)
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We growin' doja in the basement in that underwater garden (Okay)
With heron in the back shed, dryin' 'til it harden
Makin' hash up in the oven (Man), with yayo on the hot plate
Drain and dry in the freezer, it's obvious we got weight
I said hard work, that's soft work, even that wet work
Built-in clientele so we ain't gotta network (Let's go)
We always got work, so we ain't gotta get work
And if you ain't gettin' your work from us, you bound to get jerked
We yayo experts, we been whippin' the yola
Since them crackas decided to take the coke out Coca-Cola
Hold up roll, it's the king of the Trill, the Underground as well
You can step in the ring when you feel; nigga, just sound the bell
Can't stand the haters in this game, but the grind, I'm lovin'
Pimpin', we past all that pushin', man, it's time for shovin'
I got the mask, I got the strap, soon as I find the gloves
I'mma speak clearly 'cause I don't think they hearin' me
A nigga only fear is gettin' charged with conspiracy
I can get it right to ya; sticky green, white to ya
Wear whatever you want, bullets goin' right through ya
If you stressin' to get buried
My niggas'll send you back to the essence in a hurry
Sippin' Crunk Juice, blowin' Dutchies in the Chevy
Try to figure me out, dawg, I'm light but I'm heavy
Yellow lemonheads in the bezzie of the presi'
And yeah, anybody can rock, but D-Block rock steady (D-Block!)
Feds don't need no warrants 'cause y'all all informants
So I get higher than New York insurance
Try to keep shit clean like Florence
Moved on up on the Eastside 'cause I never lost endurance
And it's all real niggas; if I ever get a license to carry
Shit, that's a license to kill niggas
I refuse to lose, I rather give these weak dudes the blues
And separate 'em from they jewels, teach 'em don'ts and do's
I raise tools, make crews, make decisions confused
All spectators can say is, "This lil' nigga's a fool"
A short fuse with some loose screws, some unscrewed
Better prove, you niggas pussy as the Moulan Rouge
So who guardin' who?
You know who did you know what to you know where
Goin' 'gainst 'em's too unfair
'Cause everywhere you do a show we got kinfolk there
Now you know I ain't no more now that ten folk there
They ain't powerful as the one at the end of your prayer
Got you runnin' for your life without a minute to spare
Catch you dead to the right and melt the grease in your hair
When I go to war, it's gon' be an indecent affair
Guarantee you nann real nigga breathin'll care
That at your funeral, just your parents and the preacher was there
Hollow television name-dropper reachin' for help
So I ain't gotta say a word, pimp, you beatin' yourself
You gon' get what you deserve for disrespectin' the game
Any nigga with the nerve to say another man name
When that other man ain't even present
And deny it when somebody ask him about it, that nigga's a lame
You like to lie on the mic, hide behind fame
I was a G when I came and that's the way I remain
Who is I? The Egyptian-walker, fuckers have a conniption
My existence persistent to bring foes misfortune
I dazzle 'em, like the alderman, Billy Dee in Mahogany
Minus the perm, from the tiniest sperm
That the mightiest The Almighty can muster
Project prophet, chronic blockage gives Alzheimer's to youngsters
Amongst them is me, can't remembers my beefs
With who? For what? They screw-face me up
My boo laced me up, Balenciaga
Flimsy condo with bimbos in south of Key Largo in pimp mode
The inf' glow on his clothes and you know it's over
Hammer hit pin, pin hit shell, from the shell, the slug gonna chew ya
Try not to lose me, I'll try not to lose ya
Mamma say mamma sa mu makasa, fly to Cuba
To chill with some politi-kill niggas who ill
'Cause y'all niggas are losers, don't get comfortable, niggas
Say hello to Mr. Bad Guy, get that cash, par
I'm the last don you'll ever know, so
Here you go, y'all can take these thoughts
Anywa,y I'm chargin' emcees a late fee cost
So when y'all done with my style, please break me off
But never make Nas mad just in case cross
'Cause, ah, lately y'all don't make me happy
To calm my nerve I need the herb GNC don't carry
(Who the fuck is that?) It's Ice Cube, motherfucka
(He's a maniac) No I'm a fool, motherfucka
Old school motherfucka, blow through a motherfucka
What you heard about a nigga so true, motherfucka
See I'm ugly and prettay, I'm polished and grittay
Shoot better than that nigga that tried to kill 50
See, niggas get shittay when I come to their cittay
When I hit the spot that bitch they like — she comin' with me
'Cause I got an ego big as T.O
But I'm not an Eagle; bitch, I roll a Regal
'Cause gangstas don't dance, we boogie
I told you motherfuckas, Kobe didn't take that pussy
Get money, get paid, you can beat that shit
Even if the D.A. is a piece'a shit
Colorado got bravado, but eat that shit
Another White bitch lyin' on the Black dick
I keep it flippin' like flapjacks, pimpin' like black 'Lacs
Give niggas flashbacks, they sweaty as ass cracks
When I hit the tarmac, it feel like a carjack
Niggas get out, and vanish like Star Trek
So fuckin' incredible, I'm so fuckin' credible
No matter what happen, I'll never turn federal
And that's my report comin' straight from Cali
Ice Cube is the shit on this motherfuckin' Grand Finale