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# Cat out green that|could deal with weez' #
# Homie quick like coupes,|'cause they feel the breeze #
# And I'm Holly Grove's hear,|the hood made me trill #
# The hottest hot boy,|baby, time reveal #
# And I'm Momma's oldest boy,|Papa's first seed #
# But Papa's not real,|he don't bleed what I bleed #
# I'm nineteen strong,|a kid with a kid #
# And ain't too many people|outdid what I did #
# I rock bricks down,|I rock ever town #
# I puff the best 'Bro,|pound for pound #
# Now say round,|the boy tough not bluff #
# Yeezy weezy,|young money squad up #
# I do this for|the penitentiar #
# I stunt for y'all while|I'm spending these dollars #
# I like cells|like four-corner blocks,,, #
Knockdown! Knockdown!
Another victory|for Sweetwater!
And now, for your|entertainment pleasure...
while we get ready|for the main event...
give it up for the Gat Boyz!
[Rap plays]
# You in the ghetto #
# We ain't got|no hustlers here #
# Get down and give me ten #
# I don't know what|you've been told #
# I don't know what|you've been told #
# Motheruckin' rock 'n' roll #
# Motheruckin' rock 'n' roll #
# Blame it on the bullshit #
# Blame it on the bullshit #
# To the north, to the south|to the east to the west #
I saw Louis the night|that he beat Braddock...
won the title. 1937.
Louis hits him|with a left and a right!
And Braddock is down!
Straight right hand to the jaw.
Christ, they could've|counted to fifty.
He was the best heavyweight...
that ever fought|under the modern rules.
No discussion, the best.
Then the fucking government|chased him about taxes.
Fucking IRS,|fucking bureaucrat assholes.
Fuck it.
# I don't know|what you've been told #
# Motheruckin' rock 'n' roll #
# Motheruckin' rock 'n' roll #
# Blame it on the bullshit #
# Blame it on the bullshit #
# To the north, to the south,|to the east, to the west #
# To the north, to the south,|to the east, to the west #
# To the north, to the south,|to the east, to the west #
# To the north, to the south,|to the east, to the west #
in the west corner,|weighing in at 230 pounds...
wearing the green trunks|with the gold trim...
he's undefeated with|eight wins and no losses.
Representing|the State Prison at Loda...
the great white hope,|Vern Van Zant!
# Let me tell you boys|who you're messing with #
Now in the east corner...
he's also undefeated|and defending champion,,,
with a record of|67 wins and no losses...
weighing in at 191 pounds...
wearing the burgundy trunks|with the black trim...
Sweetwater's own,|Monroe Hutchen!
All right now, shit birds,|y'all both know the rules.
I want a nice, clean fight,|nothing below the belt.
You understand me? Let's box.
Now remember,|brother convicts,,,
if you learned how to act...
they wouldn't have to fight|inside of a cage.
And be on your|best behavior, too...
'cause we don't want|no incidents, all right?
Now, let's see what|the pride of Loda...
has to offer against|the great Monroe.
Give Hitler's cousin|his lunch, baby.
It's all you, baby!|It's all you!
Yeah! Come on now!
Come back|from the rail--get back,
And there go the bell.|Here we go.
Monroe comes out|and peppers him,,,
with a nice left hand,
And another left hand,
Monroe's|just feeling him out,,,
popping him with|a little left hand,
He going to shine that|bald head up, for sure,
Move your feet!|Oh, yeah, that's right!
Yeah! Yeah!
Beat the teeth out of|his mouth, Monroe!
Come on, man!
A left|and a right by Monroe!
This guy hasn't|tagged Monroe yet,
How in the hell|could you be 6-6, 280,,,
and look wobbly already? Ooh!
He's down! He's down!
He's already down!|Vern Van Zant is down!
We're not even halfway|through the first round,,,
and he's already down!
Excuse me, sir,|we just got some big news.
The word is, the Iceman's|day of arrival is tomorrow.
E.T.A., 2 p.m.
Now, Vern Van Zant|said he got those...
brand-new tattoos|just for this occasion.
Well, Vern, don't look like...
the parry’s gonna last|too long for you.
This guy is a bum--|big, uncoordinated motherfucker.
Look at me! You OK? Box!
Ah, here we go again!|Monroe's on the hunt.
Vern, swinging and a-missing,
Ooh! And another left,|right to the midsection,
Left and right|uppercuts to the head!
Right to the head!|Right to the stomach,
This guy's just|a-swinging and a-missing!
Hits him with|a left and a right!
Monroe's just|tearing his ass up,
Right in the face!|Right to the head!
Left to the midsection!|Right to the head!
Another left and a right!
Oh, my God,|he shined his head up!
I told you,|he's shinin' it up!
One more time for Monroe,
Knockout! Knockout!
One round, motherfucker!
That's it! That's it!
It's done! This fight is over!|Monroe wins again!
Spit it.
Yeah, but I got a little|announcement for you.
Got a little|announcement for you.
Little news bulletin.
Y'all been wondering|when that day is coming.
Well, that day is tomorrow.|He's coming to Sweetwater.
The so-called undisputed...
heavyweight champion|of the world...
George "Iceman" Chambers!
What do you say to that,|Monroe? You ready?
OK, here we go. Tape rolling.
Former world|heavyweight champion,,,
George "Iceman" Chambers,,,
now you'll be moving|to a new home...
going to live with|murderers and thieves...
in California's newly-built...
Sweetwater Prison|in the Mojave Desert.
How's all this going for you?
I'll be OK.|I got a bad break.
I just gotta|play this thing out.
Your lawyers have filed|all the expected appeals,,,
but realistically, what do|you think of your chances,,,
of getting out|before serving,,,
the full sentence|of 6 to 8 years?
I'm not supposed to talk|about that legal stuff.
My people don't want me|commenting on that.
Boxing experts tend to agree...
that even as little|as two years in a prison...
without proper training|could mean the end...
for a boxer your age.|Now, you're regarded...
as one of the greatest|offensive fighters...
in the history of the sport...
an attacker|like Dempsey, Joe Louis,,,
Rocky Marciano, Joe Frazier,
Just exactly how|damaging to your skills,,,
is this prison stint|likely to be?
No damage.|I'll stay in shape, work out...
watch what I eat. I'll be fine.
But when an athlete|is removed from competition--
That's where you're making|one big mistake right off.
I'm not an athlete.|I'm a gladiator.
How do you define that?
People play baseball.|Nobody plays boxing.
Iceman, last week after|you were convicted,,,
boxing's various|so-called governing bodies...
began stripping you of|your title belts...
stripping you--
Who they think they kidding?
Everybody knows I'm the champ.
And I'm gonna be the champ|till I quit.
This fight with|Manfredy is meant to be,,,
just a tune-up for|George "The Iceman" Chambers,,,
hopefully leading|to the unification bout,,,
with Montel Briscoe,,,
undefeated holder|of the WBC crown,
The two biggest names in boxing|on a collision course,,,
sometime next year,,,
assuming the Iceman gets by|the South American challenger,
[Club music plays]
It's round 1 and one to go,|and it's all Iceman!
He's stalking Manfredy,|chasing the big South American,
Iceman with a right,|another right,
Another right|and a left to the body!
Oh, and a right-hand uppercut,|That staggered Manfredy!
Iceman stalking him,|He knows he's got him hurt,
Oh, body shots!|Right, left to the body!
Left hook and he's down!|He's down! He's down!
That's why they call him|the Iceman!
Well, Carlos Manfredy,,,
gets a one-way ticket|back to Brazil!
George "Iceman" Chambers,,,
remains undefeated|heavyweight champion!
And the big man on the block!
Are you fighting Montel next?
Just another sucker who's|gonna get his ass whipped.
If the money's right,|bring on Montel.
Nobody's running,|nobody's ducking.
Nobody--l mean, nobody--|can stand up to what I got.
Does that include Montel?
Oh, yeah, that damn sure|includes Montel.
Mr. Lewis!
Estimates are up|to 300 million dollars...
for the pay-per-view|gate alone.
Any comment on that?
Let's make the deal first.
But my first guess is|you're a few million short.
And, Iceman,|it's nine months till summer.
What's next for you?
Well, first of all,|I'm gonna go to L.A...
you know, see some friends...
then I'm gonna do|a little partying.
Hey, hey...that's it.
I've done things in my life...
maybe I shouldn't have.|I know that.
But I did not want to,|and I told him "No."
You'll be moving|into a new home,,,
going to live with|murderers and thieves,,,
in California's newly-built,,,
Sweetwater Prison|in the Mojave Desert,
Without getting into|legal strategy,,,
let's discuss your trial.
You continue to maintain|your innocence.
I didn't rape nobody.
I done a lot of wrong shit|in my life...
but I ain't no punk-ass rapist.
Look at me.|What I gotta rape somebody for?
Psst. Monroe.
You see him through the window?
Big deal's got his own|helicopter service...
instead of coming|in here on the bus.
He's the champ.
What's this shit?|Don't think negative, man.
I don't want to hear that shit.
This is your house.|You own this place.
If this was my house,|I could get up and leave.
He's here.
Just getting out|of the helicopter.
Maybe you'd like to meet him,|Mr. Ripstein.
I could bring him over.|You two could talk boxing.
I'll tell you when|I want to talk to him.
Why couldn't your high-priced|team of lawyers...
convince a judge and a jury?
Because I put people|in body bags on TV...
and get paid|a lot of money for it.
Because I'm a big, bad,|black motherfucker--
that's why nobody believes me.
I have received|over 170 requests...
for interviews with you,|Mr. Chambers.
Networks, local TV, cable...
ever newspaper organization|in the country...
foreign press, foreign TV--|you name it,
I have turned them all down,
Mr. Chambers,|here is Sweetwater,
Maximum security, level five...
state correctional|institution...
with nearly|seven hundred prisoners.
We house only murderers,|armed robbers, rapists,,,
and those with|connections to gangs,,,
and other forms|of organized crime.
The state is trying to|spare lesser criminals...
the contaminating influence|of these more hardened types.
Now, we don't want|any incidents that might add,,,
to your already great|difficulties, Mr. Chambers,
This is Mr. Mercker.
He's the senior prison officer,|He's the head guard,
This is Ms. Early,|our administrative officer.
She can arrange|for religious counsel...
or instruction, if you wish.
Whatever.|I need a CD player and some CDs.
Now, I'll give you a list.
My people on the outside|will pay for it all.
Not possible|for the first six months.
It's a privilege,|has to be earned.
Any and all privileges,,,
will depend upon|your general conduct,
Mr. Chambers,|you have been convicted...
and sent here|for the crime of rape.
That's a very serious mater,
If you'd take advantage,,,
of this opportunity|to apologize,,,
to this woman|and to sports fans,,,
and the American public|for letting them down--
heck, even the former|president of the--
Man, fuck the president!
I ain't apologizing--
not to you, not to her,|not to nobody!
And you lucky I got this|damn gate between you and me...
or I’d rip you a new asshole,|you judgmental motherfucker!
Another strong|athlete in the joint!
Welcome to Sweetwater,|Chambers!
If you|need anything, champ,,,
I got you covered,
Hey, champ!|Seen all your fights, man!
You got a name?
Mingo, move your shit,|stay out of my way...
and we'll get along just fine.
Hey, listen. It's an honor|to be cellmates with you.
I don't want no trouble, champ.
No trouble. You just gonna|stay out of my way.
He just thinks he's the king.
Because he's the heavyweight|champ, he's the man.
Well, for some of us others,|we have rights, too...
and I had the right to say no|if I didn't want to.
I want everybody|to keep your distance.
I don't need to make|no new friends...
or hear no sad stories|on why they're here.
I got my own sad story for that.
I ain't loanin' nobody|no money...
so you tell 'em don't even ask.
And I don't want|nobody talking to me...
unless I talk to 'em first.
-You got that?|-Got it.
"Leave the champ alone."
I know boxing.
I seen a lot of fights.
You're a good champeen,
Who the hell are you?
This is Mendy Ripstein.
He's a very important man|in here.
Yeah, my manager, Yank Lewis,|he told me to say hello.
I don't remember him.
He said you two|were friends in Miami...
about twenty-five years ago.
I didn't have|any friends in Miami.
A lot of people, they say|they knew me from the old days.
They're full of shit.
You're a good champeen...
but we got a champeen|right here...
and he can kick your ass.
Kiddin' me.
I watch all your fights.|You're not as good as you were.
You're just looking|for one big punch.
You're not|throwing combinations.
You're not using as much|head movement on defense.
Yeah, right, old man.
I'm just knocking|motherfuckers out.
Who's the punk in here|you got in mind?
Oh, did I hurt your feelings?
Fuck you.
Heh. Monroe.|Name's Monroe Hutchen.
Mr. Ripstein thinks|he can whip up on you, man...
but no offense. Not trying|to cause any trouble here.
# Hey, yo, it's real in here #
# All of these contenders know|just how it feels in here #
# When you're trin'|to be the top boss #
# Put your gloves on, then #
# This here|be the sport of men #
# Everybody|wants a shot at me #
# One word,|you get knocked out #
# Rocked out the box #
# Only men|leave a place like this #
# Hardcore,|I'm in your face like this #
# Tell your mama that|you'll never come home #
# Tell your mama that|you'll never come home #
Which one of these suckers|in here is Monroe Hutchen?
He's over there in line,|wearing a white cap.
What's happening, Mo? Yeah.
Brought in|some big guys in here.
He beat 'em all.
It ain't only about being big.
You gotta have skill, son.
You Monroe Hutchen?
I guess you know who I am.
Are you the champion in here?
Not the heavyweight champ.
heavyweight or|any other kind they got.
I didn't even know they had|boxing in a place like this.
Well, it's a special program.
We only get bouts|ever six months.
Mostly we fight guys|from other prisons.
How long you been on top?
Ten years.|Ever since I got in here.
Damn. Brother, that's|a real fine record you got.
I gotta congratulate you.
Yeah! You want some of this?
Yeah! Come on!
I'm gonna win.
Come on! What?
Ain't no champ in here but me!
I'm giving you another chance.
I'm inclined to overlook|what happened this afternoon,,,
and not make it a par of|your official record,
Look, let's get something|straight, Mr. Warden.
I'm not just some convict|doing five to ten.
I'm a real big deal.
Not only am I|heavyweight champ...
I'm close to being the most|famous man in the world.
So if you think|you're gonna lean on me...
like these punks|you got in here...
you better think again...
because if anything|happens to me...
it's gonna be on|the 6:00 news worldwide.
There's gonna be|a whole lot of people...
askin' a whole lot|of questions...
and you and your little crew|here better know that.
Just my luck he got sent here.
Iceman, my ass.|He's just another goddamn thug.
One who happens|to be a world champion...
and a potential|public relations nightmare.
Mr. Hutchen.
You know the little problem...
you had with|the Iceman yesterday?
Got you in some trouble.
Heavyweight champ.
Man gave me a cheap shot.
Yeah, I know,
By the court|and the higher powers,,,
you contributed to a situation|that threatened violence.
One thing you ought|to know by now, Monroe,
Life ain't fair,|Not fair at all,
The warden understands,,,
what he's doing|is unfortunate,,,
but unless Mr. Hutchen|and the Iceman are separated,,,
there will be|enormous pressure,,,
for another|physical confrontation,
Nobody likes this...
but Mr. Hutchen's presence|is an incitement to violence...
and he will be kept in there|until such time...
as we can make arrangements for|his travel to another facility.
Hey, Monroe.
Take care of yourself|in there, Monroe.
Sergeant Marinez|to the hill tower,
Sergeant Marinez|to the hill tower,
Sergeant Marinez|to the hill tower,
New duty roster just got posted.
You're working|in the kitchen with me.
Look, since we're gonna|be stuck together...
what you in here for?
You know, champ,|I don't mean to be...
telling you what to do|or anything, but...
it's not considered polite|to ask why we're here.
Kinda violation of the ethics.|You know, the code?
People take it as disrespect.
Yo! You keeping in shape,|Mr. Iceman?
Who's this chump?
Call him Ratbag.|Runs with Monroe.
Thinks he's his manager,
OK, Ratbag,|what you in here for?
-Me?|-Yeah, you.
Nothin' up close and personal.
You hit people much?
What do you mean?
You know, punch people.
When you were a kid|or since you been in here.
Sometimes. Not much.
I never was the physical type.
You want to hit me?
What, are you kidding?
You can say you did it.
"I punched|the heavyweight champ."
You can tell people|all about it.
It might even make you...
feel good about|your little punk-ass self.
I don't want to hit you, Iceman.|Shit!
Sure you do!
You don't even like me.|Come on, man.
Go crazy. Let one go.
If I hit you just this once,|will that end it?
I won't have to hit you anymore?
All you gotta do|is hit me one time...
and I'm telling you, man,|it'll make you feel good...
and it ain't gonna hurt me none.
Aright. Just once.
Just to satisfy whatever|weird trip you're on...
and show you|that I'm a good guy...
trying to do what you want.
Right. Thank you.
You're welcome.
Ohh! Yeah, baby!
Oh, yeah! Yeah!|I hit the Iceman!
-Yeah!|-Thank you.
You still feel good, Ratbag?
Yeah. I guess so.
You're not mad, are you?
Ohh! Damn!
No, I'm not mad at you.
Now, you go tell Monroe|what I said.
Ain't but one champ in here!
And it ain't some|nickel-and-dime convict,,,
beating up on fools in prison!
Get that bitch outta here.
# Yo, assemble the criminals #
# With subliminal|brought to the forefront #
# Hey, ain't nobody|know I'm in here #
# Check me, you'll learn|to respect me #
# Homeboy, don't correct me #
# I'll call you out,|step on necks #
# Man, I'm better,|stand over #
# Took out them cocky,|wanna be Rocky #
# Niggers that ran up|from the outside #
# The inside my metal cell #
# Who the hell|wanna star bitching #
# Get across in the kitchen #
# End up in the infirmary #
# On close watch, talk shit #
# That ass will get muted #
# Fuckin' with the undisputed #
I ain't gotta spend my time|makin' potato salad.
Where I come from...
we didn't have|any kind of salads.
Where's that?
Indian country. Oklahoma.
Look, man, I know|I'm not supposed to ask...
but what you in here for?
I stole some rich guy's|Mercedes in L.A.
I got a Mercedes. Three of 'em.
Mr. Hutchen.
It's Darlene Early, the G.A.O.|General administration officer.
I need to do|the interview and paperwork...
for your transfer to Folsom.
How are your spirits?|I want you to know...
I'm not in favor|of solitary confinement.
Not for you,|not for anybody else.
It's OK in here.
You can't be serious.
It's all a prison.
I live inside my head.
So that's how|you're doing your time?
Are you really that much|in control of your emotions?
Been that way all my life.
Only time I ever lost it|is what got me in here.
Yeah. I'm familiar|with your case history.
So you prefer your own company?
Most of the time.
I am supposed to recommend|whether or not...
you seem to require a detailed|psychiatric evaluation.
Other than the incident|in the mess hall--
That wasn't me.
Why don't you|go talk to the hotshot champ?
Ask him about it.
So you deny any responsibility?
Yeah, I deny it. How does|that affect me movin' on?
This has no bearing|in your transfer to Folsom.
You know, this whole thing...
this whole thing|is about people bein' scared.
Aren't you afraid of him?
Afraid. Shit, no.
He's a fighter. I'm a fighter.
If I'm better on that day,|I win.
That's just the way it goes.
Someday, ever fighter loses.
Sooner or later,|somebody comes along...
and they got your ticket.
Too old, just wasn't your day,|whatever the reason is.
in the end,|everybody gets beaten.
The most you can hope for|is that you stay on top a while.
Be the best.
I tried to say hello|to that old gangster.
Ripstein.|He said he don't remember you.
He remembers.|He just don't want to admit it.
Standard mob procedure.
Guys like him deny|they ever had a mother.
Yeah. Right.
How you makin' out, man?
It's shit, but I can handle it.
Yeah. Rumor goin' around|you almost stared a riot.
It was all bullshit, man.
I had to let the peeps in here|know who's the boss.
Just keep|your goddamn nose clean.
You already got|enough problems.
And since they stripped|you of your title...
they're having this|elimination tournament...
to figure out a new champ.
Everybody thinks|Briscoe's a lock to win it.
Word is, Montel's fighting|Jimmy Stubbs in July.
Jimmy Stubbs's a bum.
The good news is|you get outta here...
fight the new champ,|we're looking at...
the biggest payday|of boxing history.
The one thing I can tell you,|you lost a lot of fan base...
with this conviction thing.
Fuck the fans.
I get outta here,|I'll get 'em back.
The fans pay your bills,|and don't you ever forget it.
You gotta keep the pressure|on these lawyers, OK...
and get you outta here|to fight this...
big money fight with Briscoe.
You can't be servin'|no full sentence.
You're 35 years old.|Time is tickin'.
Everything|you ever worked for...
it's going|right out the window.
Janiro's an agile boxer,,,
who has the ability|of a champion,
Janiro is fresh off|a victor,,,
over Charlie Consario,
The Rock turns it on,
It's Le Graziano alone,
He won't give Janiro|punching room,
Stays after his man,
Hits him from all angles,
He remembers things|from a long time ago,,,
clear as a bell,,,
but ever day,|I gotta tell him who I am.
He's in another world:|Cuba, forty years ago...
or some fight he saw in 1953.
Then all of a sudden...
he's right there with you,|like everything's normal.
And mean--|he can be mean as shit.
Look, we went to the Emme.
We paid good money|for his protection...
and his personal needs.
They gave you the job.
I got him|an oversized cell--
ground level, so he don't|have to use the stairs.
Food privileges.|Relaxed dress code.
Big easy chair.
I even got him his own|little boxing library.
And he's safe. I promise.
These guys I got, they don't|let any harm come his way.
# It's hard in the yard #
# You can't be sleepin'|or caught off guard #
# When the boys get to creepin'|with sharp objects #
# I'm obsessed with putin'|heads in a permanent rest #
# When I flex|thirty-four-inch biceps #
# Getin' swell,|might put your lights out #
# Spend the night|in the hole, in here #
# Ever hear is cold #
# It's the gatherin'|of lost souls #
# No self-control #
# Connected with the gangsters|runnin' this shit #
# From the inside,|so there's nowhere to hide #
# Tell your mama that|you'll never come home #
Hey, chief.
How you getting along|with your new cellmate?
-He's OK.|-Mmm.
Rumor has it he took down|one of the skinheads.
A lot of rumors in prison,|you know?
Ah, probably deserved it anyway.
We hear you don't want to|associate with anybody here.
Maybe you got|way too much attitude, man.
Aaron's an expert.|He's the man on appeals.
But before we talk|about your appeal...
I need to tell you about|Miss Tawnee Rawlins.
She's filed a civil lawsuit|in the amount of $75 million.
You handlin' that?
I'd recommend|an outside attorney.
Another specialist.
However, we can handle|your tax litigation.
The government has filed|an intent to audit.
We have someone in the firm|that can deal with that.
ls any of this covered...
by the $2 million|I already paid you?
We get the same deal as you get.
You get paid win or lose.|So do we.
There are a couple|of procedural areas...
that are still in question--|possible reversible error.
But I'm not gonna kid you.|I'd make us a long shot.
You're looking at|a six- to eight-year sentence...
with possible time off|for good behavior.
Now, in California,|that means...
you're eligible for parole|in four years.
What you need to focus on...
is if you become|a model prisoner...
exhibit|special circumstances...
you could be considered|for a work furlough...
as soon as eighteen months|to two years.
So it don't matter|whether I did it or not?
It doesn't work that way.
Justice and the law|are separate issues.
Let's get back to|some of your other problems.
We've done an audit.
Your financial situation|is a mess.
-No, that's bullshit.|-No bullshit.
Big financial settlements|with your ex-wives, entourage.
Bad investments|and misrepresentations...
by your ex-business manager.
I'm gonna sue that motherfucker.
And what about this IRS shit?|Where do I stand on that?
By the firm's calculations,|you could end up owing them...
$7 million in back taxes,|and that's just the feds.
Then there's the state.|The bottom line--
we need to get|your black ass outta here...
and back in the ring.
Clive Johnson|here ringside,,,
for KHIL Channel 13|in the Bay Area,
Next, round seven|of the California,,,
state heavyweight|championship fight,,,
here from the Palmer Arena|in downtown Oakland,
Challenger Monroe Hutchen's|undefeated,,,
takin' on|state champ Butch Davis,,,
in what, so far,|has been a nearly even fight,
There's the bell!
Davis has a bad cut|above his left eye,,,
and Monroe Hutchen|looks like,,,
he wants to do|something about it,
It's all Monroe,|it's all Monroe!
A big right hand,|Another right!
Davis is down,|and this fight is over!
After forty-three seconds|in the seventh round,,,
Monroe Hutchen is the new,,,
California state|heavyweight champion!
Your attorneys have|come to me and asked me,,,
to handle your response|to the plaintiff's filing,
As you know, you are now facing|a separate civil suit...
that may well go to trial...
over the criminal charges|you've been convicted of.
Briefly, "That on March 17,|you and four other men...
"took six women|via private jet...
"from Las Vegas|to Los Angeles--"
"At approximately 1:30 p.m....
"you checked into|the penthouse suite...
"of the Beverly Manor hotel."
Until that point of the evening,|all parties concede...
but for minor discrepancies,|the foregoing is true.
What happened next|is in question.
No question.|I ain't no punk-ass rapist.
She wanted it.
Look. None of this makes|any difference at this point.
We're just trying|to get an over--
No. She didn't say no.|She ain't say shit.
She didn't have a problem|with any of it.
Miss Rawlins|effectively convinced...
the criminal trial jury|that she believed that...
you could break her|in two with one arm.
Yeah, uh-huh.
That's why she was makin'|all them happy sounds...
'cause I was killin' her,|right?
Some women like it rough.
You know anything about that?
That wasn't par|of your testimony.
A lawyer said don't sound|like I'm calling her a ho.
The prosecution|pegged you as a bully.
And she could explain it away|easily enough by saying...
that you mistook what were|in fact her cries for help...
for she was just in pain.
I heard pain before,|and--ha ha ha--
believe me,|she wasn't in no pain.
She's asking $75 million...
but I don't like negotiating|with your appeal pending.
No negotiatin'.|I ain't givin' that bitch shit.
And then when he finished,|he just put back on his pants...
and went back out|into the party...
and left me alone.
# Ohh #
# Man up #
# Man up #
# Motherfucker,|you are now in jail #
# Man up #
# Motherfucker, where|it's strange as hell #
# 'Cause you's|a no-booty and so,,, #
# Man up #
# Motherfucker, get your|manhood took #
# Man up #
I'm looking to be|your friend, Champ,
I'm a gift.
Well, I don't need no gifts.
Who sent you?
Saladin.|He want to be your friend.
He kind of run things|for El Faziz Assassins.
You can check it out.
You kind of pretty for a bitch.
But I don't want to owe nobody.
You tell him I said that.|Now get outta here.
You may be the champ,|but you are only one guy.
Let me help you out.
El Faziz Assassins give you|something, you take it.
You do not refuse.
I'm looking for Saladin.
Pleased to meet a man of|your great accomplishments.
You run shit here?
There's strength in unity,|brother.
In here we need cooperation|and understanding.
We are at times|discriminated against...
even within these walls.
Now, if you wish to come|and join with us--
Brother,|if you don't join with us...
you'll be destroying|the unity we create.
Warden wants to see you.
That's quite a show|you put on there.
Come on. Let's go.
I'm disappointed.
Three incidents already,|one a near riot...
one an assault and now|a physical confrontation...
that has sent five men|to the hospital...
for medical treatment.
You've only been here ten weeks.|It is undeniable--
you are making|a very poor record.
The whole thing is,|they got to respect you...
or you nothin'.
I believe that|you're missing the point.
The warden is trying|to explain the idea...
of acceptable behavior.
I'm trying to explain to him|how to survive.
I don't think there|are too many inmates here...
who could challenge you|physically, Mr. Chambers.
You really don't understand.
When you're the champ,|everybody wants a piece of you.
Everybody’s testing you.
My whole life, I got a problem,|I take care of it with these.
People love a guy who can fight.
Money, pussy, kiss your ass,|put you on TV...
put your picture|in papers, magazines...
anything I want, because people|love a guy who can fight...
and don't take shit.
# Murder #
# The choice I made,|so now I pay #
# Thinkin' back,|I have to ask #
# How'd it end this way? #
# You see,|it all happened so fast #
# I couldn't think twice #
# Now I'm chillin'|for killin' #
# And I'm payin' the price #
Who I'm with is none|of your business!
None of my business?|I'll deal with you--
Stop it!|You're killing him!
On the night|of December 1, 1990...
you beat a man to death|with your bare fists...
which because|of your profession,,,
and your training|are considered,,,
to be lethal weapons|in the state of California,
You've been found guilty|by a jury of your peers,,,
and you are sentenced|to life imprisonment,,,
without the possibility|of parole,
Good morning, Mr. Ripstein.|How are you today?
Don't give me no shit.
How the hell|is the fight comin'?
What fight?
We got the heavyweight|champion of the world...
and an unbeaten prospect|right here in Sweetwater.
Quit wasting time.|Set the fuckin' thing up.
I know fights.
Long prize,|Monroe kicks his ass...
we can make|a lot of money here.
Mr. Ripstein, excuse me,|but you're talking about...
the real heavyweight|champion of the world.
Are you gonna fix the fight?
Shit no. Boxing.
It's a matter of style.|They all can be beaten.
Right time, right place,|the right circumstance...
they all can be beaten.
Mr. Ripstein wants|to see the Iceman...
fight a prisoner|we got in here.
His name is Monroe Hutchen.
And a real goddamn fight. Pure.
So, what do you want us to do?
I talked to the head guard.|He's OK.
But the warden's a problem.
Mr. Ripstein said|you can take care of him.
You know the drill.
You help him or you hurt him.
Now...about Monroe Hutchen.
The warden thinks it's time...
to give him a chance|to rehabilitate himself...
by socializing|with the other prisoners.
In six weeks,|I'm going on vacation.
On the fifth,|I'll be gone for two weeks.
First week in New Orleans...
second week visiting friends|in Tucson, Arizona.
If while I am gone...
if Mr. Hutchen happens to|get into a sparring match...
with Mr. Chambers,|I don't want to hear about it.
And when I get back...
I want this whole goddamned|enterprise finished.
Yes, sir.
Leaving no evidence,|no videotape...
and never to be spoken of|in my presence.
-Anything else, sir?|-Hit the yard.
Thank you.
Had to have been somebody|in the governor's office.
Soon as he got the call...
Mr. Backbone stared|arranging his vacation.
Know what that means,|don't you?
This whole load of shit|comes down on you and me.
There is no "you and me."
I'm taking my vacation|right along with the warden.
Well, thank you|for your support.
Oh, come on.|You run the fight program here.
You want this to happen.
Here we go, Monroe.
Free at last, free at last.
-I'm not going to Folsom.|-What can I tell you?
Looks like the warden|went and changed his mind.
You get to stay home with us.
Yeah, Operator,|a collect call to Yank Lewis.
No. Yank Lewis.
From George Chambers,|the Iceman.
Yank. Yeah, man, it's me.
Who the hell you think it is?
Get your ass up here|and share the beauty.
Maybe I gotaa ticket|back on the gravy train,
What?|What are you talking about?
Remember your old buddy|from Miami, Mendy Ripstein?
His boy came up to me|and said...
that if I fight|some punk in here...
he could maybe|get me out quick.
If Mendy Ripstein says it,|then it's the real deal.
But you can't hear this|from some other guy.
You gotta hear this|from Mendy himself.
Then it's dope for sure.
If it's on the real,|I'll whip on this punk's ass...
and be out of here.
Who's the punk?|Don't tell me Monroe Hutchen.
He fought out of Oakland.|He was undefeated.
He was a real prospect, man.|He's a full load.
Even if he was something,|he's been in here for ten years.
I'm just saying it might not be|a walk in the park.
-I don't believe this shit.|-What?
You worried about me|being out of shape.
I've been in here|for four months.
That chump been in here|for ten years.
-You too much, man.|-What? That's concern--
Get the fuck outta here.
Yes, I want you to fight him,
In the cage, no gloves,|bare-fisted, to the finish,
I make a couple of calls,|I put down some money,,,
There's some people|on the outside,,,
that know you,|everybody knows him,,,
we'll get maybe twenty,|thirty-to-one odds,
It's easy to spread around,|maybe two hundred thousand,
You win, that's|four million bucks, maybe more.
And I think he can't wait.
What's in it for me?
Mr. Ripstein|uses his influence...
you stay out of solitar...
get the privileges|you been missing.
Offer me half the profit,
Oh, I don't think so.
I'm putting up all the dough|on a real long shot.
I'm taking all the risk.
What are you worried|about money for?
What are you gonna|buy in here?
You in here, too.
Probably gonna die in here.
What the money matter to you?
You're gonna get ten percent.
I know that fighters|usually get...
fifty percent, minimum,|on the outside.
Yeah, but we're not outside.
I want more.
I got a sister,|she got three kids...
no job, no skills, no husband.
Government gives her|a check once a month.
I could send her the money.
You're gonna get thirty percent|of everything we win.
It's a deal?
Forty percent.
That's it.
You wanted to see the Iceman?
Mr. Ripstein thanks you|for bringing him...
to this neutral location.
The Iceman doesn't want|any disappointments.
He expects to negotiate.
You have to understand...
that Mr. Ripstein is|a great boxing enthusiast...
a great student of the art...
a great historian|of the prize ring.
Mr. Ripstein|believes the truest,,,
purest expression|of the sport,,,
was the bare-knuckle fights|of the Nineteenth Century...
the Queensbury rules.
Oh, no, no.|The London Prize Ring rules.
Queensbury changed the rules|to the ones that we got now.
Look, let's cut through|all this bullshit.
I want out.|Otherwise, no fight.
How you gonna pull it off?
We handle that through|the Department of Corrections.
We got a guy on the committee.
I got your word on this?
You better get ready to fight.
# Train all day #
# Train all day #
# You know I gotta feel|the pain all day #
# Work hard even if|it rain on me #
# Nothing less than|five miles in the morning #
# I'm jogging and yawning #
# Stick and move,|intense, here we go #
# One, two,|come up the ring now #
# What you gonna do? #
# Showboat when|I expose the ribs #
# Watch for the hook #
# Place bets, hey,|money on the books #
# You ain't seen a fight|till you seen what I took #
# I got precision,|the jab keep you #
# At the perfect distance,|and it can be done #
The fight is six weeks|from tomorrow night.
Y'all got that amount of time|to get your fighters in shape.
These are the rules.
Mr. Ripstein has gone|through a lot of trouble...
putting them together.
What about a foul?|Who's gonna ref this thing?
There isn't any referee.|That's one of the rules.
What kind of shit is this, huh?
Mr. Mercker can judge fouls|from outside the cage.
No kicking, butting, low blows.
If you win or lose on a foul,|all deals are off.
This is a bunch of crap, OK?
My guy's got a lot more to lose|than this other chump.
Nowhere to train properly,
First there's no gloves,|then these dumbass rules.
Truth is, we don't know shit|about fighting this way.
And that makes you even.
[Rap plays softly]
# Train all day #
# Even though I gotta feel|the pain all day #
# Work hard even if|it rain on me #
# Nothing less than|five miles in the morning #
# I'm jogging and yawning #
# Stick and move,|intense, here we go #
# One, two,|come up the ring now #
# What you gonna do? #
# Showboat when|I expose the ribs #
# It's the standard|arrangement #
# Trust me,|they'll crown me the king #
# Learn a routine|and get between #
# Because I'm still|the champeen #
Mr. Ripstein, I don't|want to cause no trouble,
I wanted to talk to you|about the rules, you know?
Actually, about the gloves.
There aren't any gloves.
It says so on page three|of the rules.
Yeah, I know,|but it'll make for a dull fight.
I mean, bare knuckles,|nobody throws a lot.
If you watch those old films...
of Jack Johnson|and Jeffries and Cornet--
Those guys were trained|in bare-knuckle style, you know?
It was like a news flash|when somebody threw a punch.
I just want to make it|clear that I agree...
but my boy?|He don't give a shit.
Gloves, no gloves,|it don't matter.
Bring him on.|We ain't backing up for nobody.
Jab, baby! That's right, jab!
Be a lot more|hitting with gloves.
I gave you a copy of|the London Prize Fight Rules...
that Mr. Ripstein typed out,|and it says "No gloves."
No. Wait a minute.|He's right.
It's a better fight|with six-ounce gloves.
Get 'em,
[Hip-hop music plays]
Monroe!|How you doing, brother?
First, there's a smile,|then comes a cheap shot, huh?
I guess nobody's dumb enough|to fall for that twice, huh?
You got that right, Mr. Iceman.
You can call me Champ.
Now see, you've been told.
In here, I'm the champ.
You believe that, you must|believe in the tooth fair.
Nobody's backing up.
Hold on, brother.|You gonna get your chance.
[Bass music plays slowly]
Good evening,|I'm Maureen O'Boyle,
Tonight on CNO X's|"The inside Story",,,
we'll be talking|with Tawnee Rawlins,,,
in an exclusive interview,,,
that will be her|first public statement...
since the sensational|trial and conviction...
of George "Iceman" Chambers...
former heavyweight|champion of the world.
Thanks for being|with us, Tawnee.
I was scared.
I didn't want|to be there anymore.
I--I didn't want|to do nothing with him...
but he wouldn't stop.
This whole thing|is just such a mess.
I've been out of work...
since this|whole thing happened...
and I had to have lots|of doctors and lawyers...
and I got stacks of mail|from people...
saying that they hate me...
because I took away|their heavyweight champ...
and that I'm a gold digger|and all that...
but I say|walk a mile in my shoes.
I did not want|to cause him any harm...
but he wouldn't listen to me,|and he wouldn't stop.
These dumb shits been watching|too many old prison movies.
You get on the horn.
Get me a situation red in here.
Central security,|this is the mess hall.
We have a situation red.|Repeat, a situation red.
We've got a situation,|Get down to the mess,
On the double, all right?|Riot's coming down,
Hey, Iceman!
Hey, Iceman.
Before you came here...
we all figured|you were some kind of dude.
Then you show up|actin' like you're the God...
and we're the sod,
Well, hey, man,|ever dog in here,,,
wanted to see you|get your ass kicked,
You're goin' down, man!
[All chanting "Monroe"]
Kick your ass, motherfucker!
Let's go! Move!|Move! Move! Move!
Give 'em one!|Take out the ceiling!
He cancelled the fight,
Jesus fuckin' Christ,|this fuckin' state.
Who the fuck|does this fuckin' warden...
fuckin' think he is?
Doesn't anybody know how to do|business in this fuckin' state?
My fuckin' wife and her fuckin'|asthma and allergies.
We had to move|to the fuckin' desert.
Goddamn fuckin'|chickenshit doctors...
I should've known better than|listen to those shitheels.
Fuckin' Palm Springs...
Lay there in the fuckin' sun|and do nothin'.
Then this fuckin' state|grabs my ass for taxes.
Why the fuck I didn't stay|in fuckin' Florida...
where people know how|to do fuckin' business.
Fuckin' wife|and her fuckin' asthma.
Somethin' needs|to get fuckin' done...
I gotta do it myself.
Call the fuckin' warden.|I wanna meet him.
Yes, sir, Mr. Ripstein.
I don't make it a habit|of meeting with prisoners.
I'm doing this out of deference|to Mr. Mercker here...
who thought|it'd be a good idea.
However, any attempt to have me|reinstate the fight...
between Mr. Chambers and|Monroe Hutchen will be futile.
It has been|irrevocably cancelled.
Can I tell you a story?|One of my favorites.
It's about how things get done.
This is a story that|takes place in about--
it must've been|the middle 1950s.
I was second in charge|of certain operations...
second to a Mr. Meyer Lansky.
There was this casino--|a new one--
that had been built|in a neighboring town.
But the mayor, he wanted|to close that casino...
because he did not|like gambling.
He thought it brought|the wrong kind of people.
So he ordered|the casino closed. Ohh.
I had to report this|to Mr. Lansky.
So Mr. Lansky,|he told me, he says...
"You tell that mayor...
"that the casino stays open,|no question"...
but that the mayor|had a choice.
He could choose to be killed,|or he could choose to have...
a great deal of money|deposited in his bank account.
It was his choice.
In either case,|the casino stays open.
What happened to the mayor?
He died,
He hit his ignition and his car|exploded like a fireball.
You're gonna stand there and|let this hoodlum threaten me?
Well, sir, I don't much|want my car to blow up.
We could|talk about the money...
when you come back|from your vacation.
I understand|you're leaving tomorrow?
All of us, we hope|you and your family...
have a very pleasant time.
We're gonna limo over|a few guys from Vegas--
act as witnesses.
Chuy, we've been talkin'.
We need you|to go to the Iceman.
Get a number.
We're gettin' a hell|of a price on Monroe.
We need the Iceman|to go for it.
Ask him to lie down?|I don't see it.
Offer him a million.
He made $25 million the last|time he fought somebody.
-He had to fight for that one.|-Talk to him.
You got it wrong.
You hired me|to look after Mendy.
I'm looking after him|right now.
Mendy wants a straight fight.|It's not the money.
Bullshit! In New York,|in Cuba, in Florida...
his whole life,|it's always about the money.
He's got it stashed|all over the place.
Fuckin' millions.
He's got ever fuckin'|nickel he ever made.
With Mendy,|it's always about the money.
You guys are way off|Mendy's radar on this deal...
and I don't want|to mess it up for him.
Mendy wants a straight fight|to the finish, and that's it.
You want the Iceman to dump?|You go talk to him.
But don't get your hopes up.
OK, Monroe, now that|this thing is back on...
here's the deal.|We got a guy in the dispensary.
He's gonna steal five or ten|Valiums, crush 'em up.
And I got another guy|in the commissar.
Last meal Iceman eats before|he fights, we mix it in.
Just enough to slow him down,|fuck him up.
Now, he'll still fight,|but he won't be the same.
That'll be just enough|to give you the edge.
You got it?
You do that, I'm gonna|break you up into pieces.
I can take this guy,|and I don't need no help.
You understand that?
Hey! We're just trying|to give you...
a little something extra, man.
We got a lot of money|on this table.
I may not be a real good guy...
but I ain't no chickenshit,|either. You remember that.
Take him down.
OK. We got ourselves|ninety minutes.
We just concentrate. We focus.
We mentally imagine|ourselves winning.
Just close your eyes.|We concentrate.
We see ourselves winning.
We see Iceman all beat to shit.
We see ourselves winning.
In twenty minutes,|we star to loosen up, OK?
Break a sweat.
We don't want this shithead|to catch you cold.
Hey, you get sloppy,|that's when mistakes happen.
All right,|cell blocks A, B, C, and D...
if all y'all|are ready over there...
let's star movin' em in|on fifteen-minute intervals.
Let's get|the fighters in here!
Tear it up, Monroe, tear it up!|Yeah.
He's shit! Iceman is shit!|He is shit! Yeah.
That's it, that's it!|That's my man! Go!
Go ahead, now!
Yeah, let it go,|let it go, let it go!
And now,|Sweetwater's the Gat Boyz...
will sing the national anthem!
[Hip-hop beat playing]
# Oh, say can you see #
# By the dawn's early light #
# What so proudly|we hail'd,,, #
You're livin'. You're hot.
Just listen to 'em. Yeah.
He is a guest,|and this is your house!
He is an unwelcome guest.
# Ever inmate wanna be free #
# Ever hustler wanna be me #
Go ahead, baby!
Yeah, let it go! Let it go!
# O'er the land|of the free,,, #
He don't look good.|He's ugly.
# And the home of the brave #
It's time! It's time!
Fighters to the ring!|Fighters to the ring!
Fight's on! Fight's on!
# Now the time has come #
# Time #
# No place to run #
# Might get burned up|by the sun #
# Time #
# But I'll have my fun #
Good evening, honored guests,|scumbags, and Mr. Mercker...
the time is now!
We got a first here,|my friends...
courtesy of a great man,|whose name I cannot say.
Fight fans all over the world|are gonna be wishin',,,
they's in the bottom|of the barrel with us,,,
wishin' Sweetwater Prison|was their home tonight!
Now pay close attention...
'cause I'm only|gonna say this once.
The fight you're about to see|follows a set of rules...
never been used before|around here.
London Prize Rules:
no traditional rounds|to speak of...
no regulation-size gloves...
just those bitty six-ounce|suckers gonna tear up.
A fighter steps from|the mark ready to fight.
He go down, then he got|sixty seconds to come back.
That's it!|Fight to the finish! No ref!
All we got is the timekeeper|for the mark!
Our very own Mr. Mercker,|the walkin' boss.
Now put your hands together,|my friends...
for our favorite son...
Sweetwater's|defending champion...
undefeated,|with a prison record...
of 68 wins, no losses,|weighing in at 199 pounds...
wearing the burgundy trunks|with the black trim...
Monroe Hutchen!
Monroe Hutchen!|Monroe Hutchen!
Now give it up|for the west corner.
He's also undefeated...|on the outside.
Weighing in at 205,,,
the former heavyweight|champion of the world,,,
George "Iceman" Chambers!
Come on, motherfucker!
There's only|one thing I got to say--
put his ass|between his shoulders!
OK, brother cons,|we are ready!
Now, don't let your passion|for the great Monroe...
interfere with good judgment,|and don't do nothin' stupid!
That'll forfeit|all the money...
that you guys bet|at those big odds.
And welcome to our amigos|from Las Vegas...
here to witness this contest|and report it,,,
to various cities|all around our great country,
Whole lotta bookmakers|out there want to know...
what's comin' down.
Well, it's us against|the world, my brothers,
And just like you, I too am|for the great Monroe Hutchen!
He brought honor|to our house of pain...
but I will call|a neutral fight.
Come on, bitch.
This is the fight|for what's right,
This is the brawl for it all!
This fight ain't about money!
This is their|heavyweight champion,,,
against our|heavyweight champion!
This fight is for respeck!|R-e-s-p-e-c-k!
Round one! Round one!
And here we go, baby.
They move|to the center of the ring,,,
feelin' each other out,
You gotta remember something:
Monroe is|a forty-to-one underdog,,,
goin' up against the Iceman,|a great champion,
Combinations, man!|Combinations!
Monroe swings and misses,|Iceman counters,,,
with a hard right hand|to the head!
-That's it, baby, come on!|-Hit that big motherfucker!
Monroe's|backpedaling, circling,
Doesn't look|like he's too willing,,,
to trade punches|with the Iceman,
Watch it, Monroe,|watch it, now, baby!
Lookin' for a way|to get to Monroe,
Now he's tauntin' him!|He's tauntin' Monroe!
He's taunting him!|Monroe swings,
The Iceman hits him|with a hard right,,,
and a left to Monroe's head!
You ain't hurt him!|You ain't hurt him!
Hey, bullshit!
Oh, Monroe misses,,,
and the Iceman tags him|with a hard left hand,,,
and Monroe|is going backwards, baby,
The Iceman tauntin' him on,
Get in his face!|Get in his face!
Monroe lands an overhand right!|Now a combination!
Monroe's getting himself|into this fight!
The Iceman counters with|a hard right to the face,
Another right to the head,
Monroe is fast, but the Iceman|is much stronger,
They hook up again! Both men|exchanging combinations!
Right hand!|Left! Right! Right!
And boom!|The Iceman drives Monroe back!
Make him bleed, man,|make him bleed!
Both men throw combinations!
Left! Right! Overhand right!
Monroe misses,|The Iceman comes back,,,
with a right-left to the head!
Get him!
They're fighting|at an incredible pace!
Can you believe it?
Nice overhand right|by Monroe!
Iceman's not hurt, but he|ties Monroe up in a clinch!
Oh, shit, baby! Go get him!
Hard right hand!
Yeah! Another one! Move!
Monroe swings and misses,,,
and the Iceman|keeps hurting' him,,,
with an overhand right,
Combination, right-left!
Big left hook!
A right and a left|to the stomach,
Another left--|oh, an uppercut!
And Monroe is down!
Sixty seconds!
And we now know why|he's the heavyweight champion...
of the world.
Huh? Huh? Huh?
Huh? What? What?
And Monroe is up!
Looks like he will continue,
Hey, Iceman, you ain't shit!
You just got robbed!
The Iceman's straight-ahead,|locomotive style,,,
may be a little too much|for Monroe,
He's never had to face|anything like this,
-Boo!|-Come on, big daddy!
The Iceman's in his corner,,,
a mighty confident man,
That's what you gotta do!|Let's go!
Monroe's trademark of|occasionally switching,,,
to a southpaw|left-hand style--
ain't workin' so far, baby!
Ten seconds!|Fighters to the line!
Fighters to the line!|Clear the ring!
Pucker up, motherfucker.
Clear the ring!
Round Two!
And here we go, baby!
Despite the knockdown,|Monroe looks,,,
like he's pulled himself|back together,
The Iceman misses,,,
and Monroe lands|an overhand right!
Right hand! Right hand!
A quick-hit exchange!
Now this is boxing!|Hard combinations,,,
and they clinch!|Beautiful! Beautiful!
Ooh, what a right hand|by the Iceman!
Another right to the head,|Monroe misses,,,
and pays for it dearly|to the body,,,
and he reels back|from the punishment,,,
given to him by the Iceman,
Another hard right and left,|and Monroe is on his heels!
He's up against the fence!
The Iceman|is going for the body!
Another one to the body,|and it doesn't look good,,,
for Sweetwater’s|own favorite son,
The Iceman's all over him!|He's tearin' Monroe up!
Oh, another right|to the head!
Monroe's down, and he's dizzy|as a motherfucker!
He's talkin' shit, baby!|He's talkin' shit!
Who the hell you think--|I know he ain't talkin' to me,
He's talkin' to y'all!
That's right! Yeah! Uh-huh!
Monroe's wobbly, He's shaky,
There's no question about it,|Monroe is hurt!
Come on! Come on!
Don't get careless.|Knock him on his ass!
Now take a whiff of this.|Come on.
This fight is far from over.
You're gonna get him.|We got plenty of time.
He just loves|to taunt the crowd,
He's got everything|going his way,
Oh, that Iceman is|one cocky son of a bitch,
He's already knocked|him down twice, Eddie!
I don't know how much longer|this has got to go.
You gotta fight your fight!
You're fightin' his fight.|You control the rhythm.
You gotta|turn this fight around!
You can do it, Monroe!|Come on, now!
This is your round!
The Iceman lookin'|supremely confident,
He's got it all goin' his way!
Round three!
They come out,|and it seems like the Iceman,,,
is just trin'|to find that one big shot,,,
that'll put Monroe|on his ass,,,
and give him a one-way|ticket to Bootyville.
Oh! A big right hand|by the Iceman!
And another right hand|by the Iceman!
This can't go much furher!
That's it! That's it!
Come on, Mo! Dance with him!
Both of these men|are great warriors,
Iceman has a look|of determination in his eye--
but like I said before,|brother scumbags,,,
he's lookin' for that big punch|to end it all for Monroe,
The Iceman is clearly|in control of this fight,
But Monroe|is still there, baby.
Our favorite son|is still standin',
Oh, that right hand just|keeps shakin' Monroe up!
Stay strong! Stay strong!
Big left and right|comin' from the Iceman!
He is all over Monroe!
And the Iceman is on the hunt!
He's on the prowl!
He's goin' in for the kill!
Oh, God!
What a devastating|left hook from Monroe!
The Iceman is staggering,|and he's hurt!
Oh, Monroe hits him|with another shot!
He's drivin' him|back up against the cage,,,
punishing him|with wicked combinations!
Monroe is all over him!
He's hurt! He's hurt!|Left, and right!
Oh, shit.
Can you believe it?!
Ohh! And a right hand|puts the Iceman down!
The Iceman is down,,,
for the first time|in his career!
Sixty seconds!
This is unbelievable,
Way to go, Monroe!
I can't believe it!|The Iceman is down!
And the Iceman is up,|He's staggerin' around,
He doesn't know where he is,
Oh, my God, he's gone|plum-fuckin'-crazy in there!
The Iceman's gone|absolutely crazy,
This could be it, This could be|a disqualification,
Somebody get in there|and stop this thing!
I got a lotta damn money|ridin' on this!
Pandemonium! Out of control!
Pandemonium! Out of control!
[Crowd chants "Monroe"]
Monroe has definitely|turned this fight around,
What goes on in the mind|of George "Iceman" Chambers,,,
at this moment|is anybody's guess,
This is one|for the record books, baby,
People are gonna be talking|about this,,,
for the rest of their life,|and if I knew,,,
I had to go to jail|to see a fight like this...
I'd have did a crime|a long time ago!
This is your night!|This is your house, baby!
Don't let up! Go at him!|Stick him hard!
Take him out, baby! Come on!
Ten seconds!|Fighters to the line!
You can do it!|Kick his ass!
Let's go, Monroe, let's go!
That was|the toughest round,,,
in the Iceman's whole career,
He must regain momentum,|He must come out strong,
He must get back|in this fight!
Oh! And he is back!|A left and a right to Monroe!
Monroe hits him with|a right hand, left hand,,,
and another right hand,,,
and the Iceman|is forced to clinch!
Stick him, baby! Go at him now!
Monroe switches to southpaw!
They're hookin' up!|Toe to toe!
Punch for punch!|Back and forth!
This is a war!
Oh, my god, what a fight!|And I am so happy,,,
that it's happenin' right here|at Sweetwater Prison,
Let's go, baby!
He's on the hunt!|Monroe's on the prowl!
Right hand!|A left to the stomach!
Overhand right!
Another left and a right,|and an overhand right,,,
to the head!
Monroe is punishing him,,,
with blows to the head|and the body,
Say what you want to say about|George "Iceman" Chambers,,,
but he is dead game!
It's over! It's over!
Monroe wins again! It's over!
It's over!
That's it! Monroe wins,,,
and I just won|a lot of goddamn money!
Yeah! Yeah!
You owe me money, Eddie!|You owe me money!
Monroe! Monroe!
Yeah! Yeah!
Monroe! Yeah!
But this...|this is a thing of beauty.
A great thing of beauty.
Two guys|fightin' to the finish...
but just one guy wins|because he's the better man...
and that's what|the goddamn sport is about.
Mendy Ripstein died|3 weeks after the big fight,
He kept his word,|Monroe got his money,,,
and the Iceman got out|on special parole,
I can personally|thank Mr. Ripstein,,,
for another thing,
His lawyers|contacted my family,
He left me $2 million,|free and clear,
So I guess I'm not|gonna have any excuses,,,
when I get out of here,
I read in the sports page|that Iceman and his manager,,,
both denied the fight|with Monroe ever happened,,,
and the story about him losing|was only a big rumor,,,
a fairy tale,
Once upon a time in prison,
[Rock music playing]
Our panel of experts,,,
have the fight even|at two rounds apiece,
Both fighters fighting,,,
for the heavyweight|championship of the world,,,
the greatest title|in all of sports,
One thing I can tell you|for sure,,,
life in prison hasn't changed|the Iceman's fighting style,
Both fighters feeling|each other out now,
Briscoe trying|to work the jab,
He can't get anything in,
A left to the body!|And here comes Chambers!
Another right!|A left to the body!
Right-left combination!|A left! A right!
A left hook,|and down goes Briscoe!
Down goes Briscoe!
Chambers over|to the neutral corner,,,
and referee Mathew Kerrigan|is counting it out!
Briscoe, desperately trying|to stand up,
He wants to continue,
Kerrigan has called it off!
And by knockout,,,
with one minute, 22 seconds|into the fifth round,,,
Right here!|Always was the champ!
,,,Briscoe is knocked out,|and the now-undisputed,,,
heavyweight champion|of the world,,,
is George "Iceman" Chambers!
Hey, Monroe! Iceman won!
Guess what, cat?
They say he's the heavyweight|champ of the whole world!
Undisputed! Haaaa!
[Chanting "Monroe"]
[Rap music playing]
# Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah,|yeah, yeah, yeah #
# Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah #
# Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah #
# Uh-huh, who? #
# CMB #
# Who? Who else? #
# Who? #
# The undisputed CMB #
# We holdin' the title #
# You know why? Look #
# There ain't a cat out green|that could deal with weez #
# Homie, quick like coupes,|ah, feel the breeze #
# And I'm Holly Grove's hear,|the hood made me trill #
# The hottest hot boy,|baby, time reveal #
# And I'm Momma's oldest boy,|Papa's first seed #
# But Papa's not real,|he don't bleed what I bleed #
# I'm nineteen strong,|a kid with a kid #
# And ain't too many people|outdid what I did #
# I rock bricks down,|I rock'r town #
# I puff the best 'Bro,|pound for pound #
# Now say round,|the boy tough, not bluff #
# Eazy, weezy,|young money, squad up #
# Whoever don't like it,|mount up and down you go #
# I been a champ|like the dude Monroe #
# Not in ten years, they still|wouldn't have planned it #
# For ever one to fall,|and I still be standin' #
# We can't lose,|been through too much pain #
# Too much struggle,|and too much strain #
# This is CMR #
# Though them haters|try to lock us in #
# We got it locked|from the block to the pen #
# We can't lose,|we been through too much pain #
# Too much struggle,|and too much strain #
# This is CMR #
# Though them haters|try to lock us in #
# We got it locked|from the block to the pen #
# Undisputed #
# I'm the Iceman, whoa,|it's nothin' to ex you out #
# Put the G on the head #
# Ain't got to say it|out the mouth #
# With the beanie,|with the blue jean jacket #
# Metal packin',|walkin' up that walk #
# And I'm 'bout|that jackin' #
# I do this for|the penitentiar, holla #
# I'll stunt for y'all while|I'm spendin' these dollars #
# I lock cells|like four corner blocks #
# I'm the bird man,|I never chipped off the top #
# I'm switch-handed,|when I'm swingin, I'm landin' #
# I thug on the street,|and I thug red-banded #
# Wipe you off the land,|it's a concrete jungle #
# A tip full of gangstas,|O,Z,s, and bundles #
# The tip drops|for the clowns I put under #
# You know, I been livin'|like this for ten summers #
# I'm the boss of the ghetto,|black crow of the game #
# Third ward survivor,|ain't a damn thing changed #
# We can't lose,|we been through too much pain #
# Too much struggle,|and too much strain #
# This is CMR #
# Though them haters|try to lock us in #
# We got it locked|from the block to the pen #
# We can't lose,|we been through too much pain #
# Too much struggle,|and too much strain #
# This is CMR #
# Though them haters|try to lock us in #
# We got it locked|from the block to the pen #
# Undisputed #
# Say, hold up,|check this out #
# We 'bout to cut|the lights off, right? #
# Send me some meddum|and a Joe #
# While you're at it, send that|week down here with it #
# Boy, I done sent for ya,|so it's best you come #
# I'm Lac Saladin,|the dog of the prison #
# I'm the next best thing|to the warden #
# Plus I'm chargin',|two bits on accordin' #
# I send words|to an old blister #
# With no pistol,|the BGF still sho' getcha #
# I walk|with my pants saggin' #
# I'm a HBG for life,|now, what's happenin'? #
# Please, what you talkin',|I'm a dead man walkin' #
# If we was on the streets,|the 44 would be barkin' #
# Keep the shank|on the left side #
# The Bitch right hip,|I'm the greasy outta B,C, #
# That's runnin' the tip #
# With the black gorillas,|petty hustlers, and asses #
# Jeffrey Dahmer, son of Sam,|Aran nation, and O,J, #
# Now how you gonna|stop them? #
# Throw away the key|and lock them #
# Tell the D,A,|it's them against me #
# We can't lose,|we been through too much pain #
# Too much struggle,|and too much strain #
# This is CMR #
# Though them haters|try to lock us in #
# We got it locked|from the block to the pen #
# We can't lose,|we been through too much pain #
# Too much struggle,|and too much strain #
# This is CMR #
# Though them haters|try to lock us in #
# We got it locked|from the block to the pen #
# Undisputed #
ocr by Andante
US Marshals
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