Byrd Gang Brawl (feat. NOE & Sandman) - Jim Jones

Just clean my fancy car Picked up my fancy clothes And we only in the hot spot, No, we got the bomb, We got the bomb This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money Only niggas spending that Byrd gang money. Just clean my fancy car Picked up my fancy clothes And we only in the hot spot, No, we got the bomb, We got the bomb This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money Only niggas spending that Byrd gang money. Reminiscing on my first slant, By the time I was sipping on my first Schlitz Hit the game, I started as a look out, See the fly cars that the big wheelies pushed out, Dirt bikes popping wheelies by the cookout, that was that summer, I was thirst to be plumper. It pays better but the risk was worst, Save the fly leather copping kicks with the work. It didnt work; I was fucken up the re-up. Bottles at the tunnel, that was 98, I called papa for the bundles, An easy ten grand, it felt like a hundred, These Gucci belts by the stomach, with guns in them. Its only wealth that we want, if we run wit em Till the death, until the feds come and get em Byrd gang money, it started off that Byrd Kane Money New cars, in that third lane money! Just clean my fancy car, Picked up my fancy clothes, And we only in the hot spot, No, we got the bomb, We got the bomb, This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money Only real niggas spending that Byrd gang money. Getting money is the hardest, Your first hundred grand is a job Your first cool million, you're an artist. Especially if the niggas up the block, sell garbage Told it, crumbles all apart when you hold it Wasn't naturally born a crook, I was molded Drugs kept my uncles in the green, so I sold it Even learned to smell a good grade through the packing Headed Midwest and got financial backing Started networking with the wheelies on credit Any concepts of being robbed I was debited Anybody get it, don't come a day later with the eigth money Got to play it out, cause I said it Courts an acquittal, coming in the club with an entourage Me I'm the boss in the middle. The brain and the bran roc-a-house rope around the neck A lot of letters for the chain, and the charm. Come on man Just clean my fancy car Picked up my fancy clothes And we only in the hot spot, No, we got the bomb, We got the bomb This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money Only niggas spending that Byrd gang money. At a young age, no bricks just grams Nigga stuck, then your mans a flip The situation real, then your mans a hit You slow on the get-a-way, the can you get You circle the block, you play track and field A lot of real niggas on that track got killed But you know me forever manning up, Never sit down when I pee, forever standing up I'm a boss, so I'm calling the shots, Big homie, pioneer of the block You wanna pump, nigga Ill tell you when and where at Don't face-fight; I'm not the one to stare at. Matter of fact dog, you and your man sits, In the back off cop car, dog, pointing your index I guess you could, cause you a Sammy the Bull But somebody gonna die if a hammer get pulled. Just clean my fancy car Picked up my fancy clothes And we only in the hot spot, No, we got the bomb, We got the bomb This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money Only niggas spending that Byrd gang money. Just clean my fancy car Picked up my fancy clothes And we only in the hot spot, No, we got the bomb, We got the bomb This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money, This is Byrd gang money Only niggas spending that Byrd gang money

(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.)

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