Grand Finale

Lyrics

[Intro: Lil Jon & Bun B] 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' MCs 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) [Verse 1: Bun B] Site 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 (Mane), with yayo on the hot plate Drain and dry in the freezer, it's obvious we got weight I said that hard work, that 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 (Fo' real) We yayo experts, we been whippin' the yola Since them crackas decided to take the coke out Coca-Cola (Hold up) Hold the rollers, 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' (Lovin') Pimpin', we past all that pushin', man, it's time for shovin' (Shovin') I got the mask, I got the strap, soon as I find the gloves Then we gon' start exposin' hoes like Farhrenheit 9/11 [Verse 2: Jadakiss] (Aha) Yeah I'ma 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 could 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 (Nah) And it's all real, niggas (Yeah) If I ever get a license to carry – shit, that's a license to kill niggas [Verse 3: T.I.] 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 Here to prove you niggas pussy as the Moulin Rouge So who guardin' who? You know who, but do you know what? Do 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 know more than 9 or 10 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 All on television name-droppin', 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, and hide behind fame, (uh) I was a G when I came, and that's the way I remain, nigga (Uh... yeah...) [Verse 4: Nas] Who is I? The Egyptian Walk up – 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 combo 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 choose ya Try not to lose me, I'll try not to lose ya "Mama-say, mama-sa, ma-ma-coosa", 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, pa I'm the last don you'll ever know, so – Here you go – y'all can take these thoughts Anyway, I'm chargin' MCs a late fee cost So when y'all done with my style, please break me off But never make Nas mad, just in case we cross 'Cause, uhh -- lately, y'all don't make me happy To calm my nerve, I need the herb GNC don't carry [Verse 5: Ice Cube] (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 pret-tay, I'm polished and grit-tay Shoot better than that nigga that tried to kill 50 See, niggas get shit-tay when I come to their cit-tay When I hit the spot, that bitch they like — she comin' wit' 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 thee 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" [Voicemail Outro: Chyna Whyte] [?] this call is from Chyna [Send that?] to decline the call. [?] to accept the call, dial 5 now To block future pre-paid calls from this person, dial 7-7 What up, nigga? You know I be tryna to call you from here, I ain't got that many minutes, you don't be answering the phone. You know when it say, "Unknown Name" mane, answer the phone, it's Chyna. Mane y'all doing y'all thang, you heard me? Let me tell you something. When this Crunk Juice drop, let these niggas know, dawg, I'm coming back, ya heard me? It's my last [rip?] in this bitch. I ain't coming back cause I'm sick of eating mackerel and noodles and wearing these khakis a day. Let these niggas know I'm 'bout to shut it down 2005, ya heard me? The Whyte about to hit the block and lace they veins with that raw dope, ya heard me? Y'all did it big in 2004, y'all gonna do it even bigger in 2005 with the Whyte back on the scene. J-Jon look, look the phone 'bout to hang up. I'ma holla at you later, alright?