The Grand Finalé Songtext
von The D.O.C.

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!