The Grand Finale

Check this out, we've come to the last and final record This is Dr. Dre in full effect And we gonna kick it off a little somethin' like this We got my mella Yella Boy on the drums We got Stan "The Guitar Man" droppin' the rhythm We got L.A. Dre on the keyboards And I want the whole posse in this muthafucka To rock on this funky ass beat we fittin' to drop, aight So Ice Cube, you the early bird on this muthafucka, run it Picture a nigga that's raw Amplify his ass, and what you see is what's saw Muthafuckas I slaughter, blow 'em out the water Word to me, fuck the father My medley is deadly, as a pin in a hand grenade 5 seconds before you get played You can't throw me, I guess you'll blow up Ever see a sucker scattered? It'd make ya throw up Then I take advantage, you can't manage To get up, all you can do is sit up, I get lit up Hit up Ice Cube, tear shit up Like a dude you can bet on, collide like a head-on Collision, stutter steppin' is an incision Of a nigga saying exactly what I vision Because I'm gone, you think I left you all But I stay in ya ass, like cholestreol When I blast, I'm solid as Alcatraz And if you escape, you better swim fast 'Cause I'll catch ya, physically and mentally And the capital punishment's the penalty Sit in the electric chair, grab a hold Pull the switch, ya body twitch, ya eyes explode Out your skull, 'cause being dull on a flow Is a N-O, niggas didn't know that I can go Off, and show off, to throw off, the law Turn, take 10 spaces, then draw What's left is a muthafucka dead in the alley Ice Cube is the shit on The Grand Finale Yeah, yeah that was funky but now we need the Muthafuckin' ruthless villian to speak, so kick it The grand finale, yo, it's my turn to bust So let weak muthafuckas turn to dust If you're weak, it ain't your fault, just take a Kick in the ass, and get turn into a pillar of salt And niggas that bite me just to taste me I make the punk muthafuckas buckle up for safety And those that don't, they caught from the flash And scream like a bitch, when he's caught in a whiplash Givin' him pain 'cause I'm urgin' Rearrange their muthafuckin' face like a surgeon It ain't no excuse for the torture deliverin' Don't say ya not scared, yo I can tell 'cause your shiverin' Lyrics labeled wit' an X and not a G I said fuck the police, yo, so now they're after me I'm wanted by the law so I stay low Representin' the pimp, while bitches make me my dough In a different stage, I must've went on a rampage Me and the D.O.C. are always hittin' the front page For what, for stealin' and steppin' up to the shelf And when I enter the party, niggas shit on their self And for what? Maybe 'cause I'm Ren And when they clean up the shit, yo, they do it again So fuck it, sit back cool and relax While Eazy, busses the facts, kickin' The Grand Finale Yeah, y'all know what time it is, Eazy Muthafuckin' E is in the house doin' damage They made it easy for me to come off like the enforcer Mass murderin' muthafuckas in the course of An everyday, situation where I would stalk by Fuck a car, I do a muthafuckin' walk-by Eazy-E an', the D-O to the C an' Run house, and yo there be no disagreein' 'Cause if there is some, you feelin' staticky Then I'm arrested, (for what), assault and battery Never outdone, only outdoin' Lovin' the bitches and leave the hoes boo-hooin' Why? 'Cause they're addicted, to what my dick did The pleasure and pain, the wing-ding inflicted (Yeah) they'll never forget what's done in bed By Eazy, the name of a Compton hard-head Cool, but loco like loc, never broke 'Cause it pays to be Ruthless, this is why I do this I don't give a fuck about fame I rather deal with a number than a muthafuckin' name (word) Get me paid and then rap 'Cause all that other bullshit wit'out money ain't jack Eazy, but not that easy to deal with Especially if you're poppin' bullshit The E-A-Z-Y and to the E Expressin' a thought, on the muthafuckin' Grand Finale Yeah, that shit was funky Last but not least is the muthafuckin' D.O.C., this is yo' album, so that Means you definitely got to get funky, so run it Swingin', singin', a brand new rap On a rhythm, concocted by my homie in the back and If it makes you giggle, it must be kinda funny But to me it's kinda cool, (tell 'em why), I'm makin' money Trippin' up the man wit' the swift hand movement Provin' if you're groovin', then it's cool when he be doin' it Takin' a second for me to blow ya mind 'Cause I'm the diggy diggy D.O.C. and I would've been down wit' rock But I was smart, the D-O to the C knowin' the formula It's rough, I mean it's funky enough for me And you can have a listen, nothin' after this and D-O-N-T M-O-V-E yo, wit'out permission From the D-O to the C, I'm just better than The normal man, and I'll be damned if a sucker can Ever compete, wit' the elite Much less beat, it's like dancin' wit' 2 left feet Never smile when the D.O.C. is in the room Or I'mma send ya ass right to the temple of doom I got raw when I came to Cali Now I'm wit' NWA, on the muthafuckin' Grand Finale Yeah, yeah, that shit was stupid def But right about now we gotta send a shout out To everybody that helped put this muthafuckin' project together That's word, word 'em up Peace is dedicated to the homeboy Eazy-E Ice Cube M.C. Ren D.J. Yella And these all the homies from the gang NWA ya know what I'm sayin'? L.A. Dre Stan "The Guitar Man" Donovan Michel'le D.J. Speed My homeboys Yomo & Maulkie The super-dope manager Jerry Heller And of course the rest of the Ruthless and Comptown posse Word 'em up! Shut the fuck up! Aaaahhh!