I got my girl pregnant at 19 And I thought I'd never make it All the drama I was facing All my friends was gang related All I gave fuck about was slangin' Never thought of making changes Till we got the crib raided (raided) Drug dealin' cases My homeboy buzzard incarcerated Suddenly my whole life change Now I'm livin' life real slow My lil son is what I live for My whole clicks what I'd kill for Redel castro in sinaloa Now we making that real doe This the shit That I'm built for This the shit He got killed for I swear to god Me & my baby mama Was meant to be Till she went through my phone that night Caught me cheating with Stephanie Naked pictures she txted me Goddamn you stressing me I'm like goddamn you stressing me I'm surrounded by soldiers All the gangstas salute me All the gangstas they love us And they wanna recruit me I swear to god my life's a gangsta movie My life is like a gangsta movie Fumando mota & sellin' coca Like gangsta movies Like Al Pacino Doing perico in mafia movies Shits about to get real I'm tellin you the shits real Wasn't old enough to buy cigarettes But I was old enough to drug deal We was old enough to kill We was old enough to pay bills I was living poor Slept on the floor Tell me how the fuck would you feel? In that one bedroom apartment I was far from stardom Guns in glove-compartments Staying far from the law Enforcement they was on us tough Gang unit rushing us I wrote songs in my worse time When I felt hopeless & suicidal Close friends kept hating on me Shout out to my future rivals Shout out to my newest rivals Who talk shit but I can't find em Mad ass fuck cause they stayed behind But I don't see em I'm still grindin' Life ain't what it might seem Hit the pen at 19 Now I'm out & I'll shoot it out Gangsta shit What you about? My hand guns I can't do without Fuck with me & I'll pull it out Shots are bangin' Shots are rangin' Investigation, snitches singin' Telling cops where the kilos stayin' Telling the cops our information Talking to pops at visitation On parole still debatin' Pick up work still debatin' Still debatin', still debatin' Life ain't what it might mean I got 2 strikes And I might fight three If they catch me with the burner Cause I got a couple fucken murders Coming from the state of California 1, 2, 3 strikes And they will hold ya You weren't trying to do life I thought I told ya All that shit from being a soulja You feel that?

You can ride all day long Another Myke Diesel production (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone Chasing a man you can't see (Mike Jones) So just walk away and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) I'm back, my music tracks about to sell another mil' My pants stay saggin' from them hundred dollar bills These haters hate but they don't really wanna see the steel These haters hate but they don't really wanna see the steel Had a million in my bank before Asylum bought the deal Had a million in my bank before Asylum bought the deal Before I came I just say the streets wouldn't feel The - that I'm spittin', the - that's real But now I'm like Melo, I'm the king of the hill American dream, I'm livin' that for real Eleven cars later - tell me how you feel Took the diamonds off my teeth And put 'em on my Phantom grill (smile, ha ha) You can ride all day long (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone Chasing a man you can't see (Mike Jones) So just walk away and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) I used to get dissed by the chicks in the club Now they want to rub my belly, wanna show your boy some love They see me iced up, they be like, "What's up?" Try to jack me if you wanna, I'ma leave you - up Used to roll hatchback, now I'm Cadillac and Benz Used to roll hatchback, now I'm Cadillac and Benz I used to have homies, now I'm like, "- friends" 'Cause even back then all they did was pretend Now I got my own label Ice Age and I'm boss I'm the mayor of this town with the key to that vault All my cars black on black except the one with thick gloss Got another white on white I call that - rick Rick Ross (Ross) You can ride all day long (Mike Jones) But you'll never catch Mr. Jones He's got a gang that's far too strong (Ice Age, Ice Age, Ice Age) Your friends know it, that's why you're all alone (hahahahahaha) Chasing a man you can't see (you can't see me, baby) So just walk away, and let him be He's got a shotgun so go back home (Who? Mike Jones Who? Mike Jones) 'Cause you'll never get Mr. Jones (Mike Jones, Mike Jones) Hey Now make it rain Hey Now make it rain Hey Now make it rain American Dream, album and movie on the way, baby

(Rhythm is both the song's manacle and it's demonic charge. It is the original breath, it is the whisper of unremitting demand. "What do you still want of me?", says the singer. "What do you think you can still draw from my lips?" Exact presence that no fantasy can represent. Purveyor of the oldest secret, alive with the blood that boils again, and is pulsing where the rhythm is torn apart. How your singer's blood is incensed at the depth of sound. Lacerations echo in the mouth's open erotic sky where dance together the lost frenzies of rhythm and an imploring immobility. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Grace Jones. Jones the Rhythm.) Slave! Slave to the rhythm Dance to the rhythm Axe to wood in ancient times Man machine, production line The fire burns, with heartbeats strong Sing out loud, the chain gang song Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up Slave to the rhythm Dance to the rhythm, The rhythm... master... master... Never stop the action, keep it up Never stop the action Keep it up, keep it up. Slave to the rhythm, work to the rhythm, Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm. Slave to the rhythm, Dance to the rhythm, live to the rhythm, Slave to the rhythm, work... to the rhythm, To the rhythm, work to the rhythm, to the rhythm. Slave, slave, To the rhythm, to the rhythm, to the rhythm. (Grace) Oh that's weird... (Grace Jones, welcome) Thank you Paul. And if you're wondering what's wrong with my voice, I just choked on my saliva. So... (Now obviously you're in the Bond movie.)