Stolen from an African land Chased out with a knife With a face like Bob Marley And a mouth like a motorbike Oh well, the bars are always open And the time is always right And if God's good word goes unspoken The music goes all night And it goes If I were Bob Marley, I'd say, "Could you be loved?" And if I was Half Pint, or with my Lord up above If I was Mike Tyson, I would look for a fight And if I was a Boomtown Rat, I would be staying up all night If I was the king Ad-Rock, I would get stupid dumb If rhymes were Valiums, I'd be comfortably numb But if I had a shotgun You know what I'd do I'd point that shit straight at the sky And shoot heaven on down for you Because the bars are always open And the time is always right And if God's good word goes unspoken The music goes all night, and it goes And it goes I want a lover, but I can't find the time I want a reason, but I can't find the rhyme And I want to start some static, but I can't afford To get slammed to the ground like I fell off my skateboard, hey Nowadays, as clear as you please Get strapped with protection, or strap with disease Laughter, it's free Any time, just call me 4-3-9, 0-1-1-6 When you're down with Sublime, you get Funky fresh lyrics You get 'nough rhythms Stolen from an Africa land I was chased out of the bar Mhmmh, I saw my best friend tonight, so Don't push me too far I'm gonna run, come down with the new lyrics Get hip, get hip, don't slip, you knuckle heads Racism is schism, on a serious tip You don't believe me, then I g'won bust your lip Higher the mountain, it hard to climb Rougher the rhythm, then it must be Sublime Listen Yellow Lover, yeah dem right on time We got Cricket with the quickness and the bassline Go and raid the sound, an' tell the people the news, oh, hey Tell them reggae music is on the loose Here I am, like a raging storm (I am from the place where the sun) With a brand-new style and a unique fashion (keeps shinin', shinin') And good, good vibes that keep on playin', playin' Dem a fire one shot for peace equality Come, come, dem a come with a rougher stylee Come, come, dey no care about your reggae stylee Come, come, if ya come with your reggae stylee Dem a fire one shot, pump-pump, lick-a-shot Dem a fire two shots, pump-pump, lick-a-shot Dem a fire three shots, pump-pump, lick-a-shot Dem a hear about me rock with me armor Do a launch, then attack me with they armor When they start counter-react me with they armor Fear who are launch, dem attack me wit they armor Me no start counter-reactin' dem bigger Hear me copy, tell you about this reggae stylee Wait, hold up People wanna come up and they wan' tell me Smoking crack cocaine better than sinse You're poppin' that shit, yeah we're sick of it Tweakin' every weekend, and we just can't take it Oh, we don't want plastic, bo!

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.)