Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Grand Finale, artist - Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz. Album song Crunk Juice, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.11.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Orchard
Song language: English
Grand Finale |
But we done got to the last motherfuckin’song niggaz |
(Last shit niggaz!) And I got five of the hottest motherfuckin' |
emcees in the world, givin’you that gangsta shit! |
IT’S THE MOTHERFUCKIN’GRAND FINALE!!!" |
We growin’doja in the basement in that underwater garden (Okay) |
When hereon in the bank shed, dry it 'til it harden |
Make it hash up in the oven (Man), put yayo in the hot plate |
Drain and dry in the freezer, it’s obvious we got weight |
I said hard work, that’s soft work even with 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 the crackas decided to take the coke from Coca-Cola |
Hold the rollers, 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 sound the heaters in this game, but the grind I’m lovin' |
Nigga we passed all that pushin', man it’s time for shovin' |
I got the mask, I got the strap, soon as I find the gloves |
We gonna start exposin’off like Farhrenheit 9/11 |
I’ma speak clearly 'cause I don’t think they hearin’me |
A nigga only fear’s gettin’charged with conspiracy |
I’ca 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 niggaz’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’ca rock but D-Block rock steady (D-Block!) |
FED’s 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 East side 'cause I never lost endurance |
And it’s all real niggaz, if I ever get a license to carry |
Shit, that’s a license to kill niggaz |
I refuse to lose, I rather give these weak dudes the blues |
And separate them 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 niggaz pussy as the Moulan Rouge |
So who guardin’who, you know who to you know what |
To you know where, goin''gainst 'em's too unfair |
'Cause everywhere you do a show he got kinfolk there |
Now you know I ain’t no ?, I got 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 granite, melt the grease in your hair |
When I go, them boys is gonna be indecent affair |
Guarantee you nah a real nigga breathin’accounted |
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’ya’self |
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 |
That’s the way I remain |
Who besides 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 Bolinsiaga, flimsy condo with bimbos in south of Kalan Gro 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 try not to lose’ya |
Mamma say mamma sa mu makasa, fly to Cuba |
To chill with some politi-kill niggaz who ill |
'Cause y’all niggaz are losers, don’t get comfortable nigga |
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 |
Anyway 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’ma 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, niggaz get shittay when I come to their cittay |
When I hit the spot that bitch they like -- she cummin’with me Cause I got an ego big as TO, but I’m not an Eagle |
Bitch, I roll with Rigo '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 DA is a piece’a shit |
Colorado got movatos, don’t eat that shit |
Another White bitch lyin’on thee Black dick |
I keep it flippin’like flapjacks, pimpin’like black 'Lacs |
Give niggaz flashbacks, they sweaty as ass cracks |
When I hit the tar mat, it feel like a carjack |
Niggaz get out and vanish like Star Treks |
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 |