[with barney greenway from napalm death on vocals. ] - ("uncovered" show at ronnie scott's jazz club, london - 1/31/95) - james hetfield (metallica -
Ladies and Gentlemen Fellow Americans Lady Americans This is James Brown I wanna talk to you about one of our Most deadly Killers in the country today
R-J-J-R My pockets are full of paper Everything you see here's mine I'm a thug and I'm rich you know my kind always on a hunt lookin for a lil more dough
Ladies and gentlemen Fellow Americans Lady Americans This is James Brown I wanna talk to you about one of our Most deadly, killers in the country today
Hunt, Billy Hunt, Billy, Billy, Billy Billy Hunt, Billy Hunt, Billy, Billy, Billy Billy Hunt, Billy Hunt, Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy Hunt Billy Hunt, Billy Hunt, Billy, Billy, Billy Billy Hunt, Billy Hunt
Been involved with street kids to kingpins Got a thing for the bad boys Thats how she meets him, see him is cat named black Real name Jack James, stacks
ain't a game clown, play ya James Brown and jump back What you want, Jack? Young cats stash they jums at Draw they guns back, momma screams where she sons at Tryin to hunt
Through forest and moors as the clouds filled the skies The storm broke upon us with fury and flame Both hunters and hunted washed out in the rain Ah, my James
little louder cause a Nigga got small ear/ either that or he ain't wanted around here mothafuck/ I know get hunted around here mothafuck/ and they call me Big James
(Dana Hunt Oglesby/Danny M. Wells) Jimmy was born in Bethlehem, Georgia He grew up to be a carpenter by trade We met four years ago on a job site
DIRTY BAG, THERE'S A TROLLOP UP ELMWOOD STREET THERE'S A TART, BAG, SLUT, SLAG, TROLLOP, up Elmwood Street I'd fence with a sword that was blunt I'd hitch a lift from James Hunt
We turned our backs to king and pope we spit the cross, symbol of pain like real sons of James the just we did disown the law of +god+ They hunt us
dead There's footsteps at my door They halt I'm tormented by that whore Who waits at court in London For word of my demise Her agents hunt me everywhere
Oh, John Dillon James was my good time country buddy Well, we hunted, talked and fished his last days away He was just a hired farm hand, worked old
in for to stay. Oh that night they wounded Old Ireland, And she's bleeding to this day. Their dogs of war were loosed to run And hunt the rebels down
but never could out wit us The only thing that they could ever do is outfit us When clothes fit strange, I'm playin' Rick James "Fuck yo' couch nigga!",
40 days, 40 fights 40 showdowns in 40 nights town to town, in high demand can't slow down. I'm a wanted man. Chorus I'm a gunslinger honey hunting you
