Champions is a 1983 film based on the true story of jockey Bob Champion. It is directed by John Irvin, written by Evan Jones, and stars John Hurt, Edward Woodward and Jan Francis.
The film is based on the true story of Bob Champion (portrayed by John Hurt), who was diagnosed with testicular cancer in 1979. After treatment with an operation to remove the diseased testicle and chemotherapy, Champion recovered and went on to win the 1981 Grand National steeple chase on his horse Aldaniti.
In 1984, John Irvin was nominated for a Golden Bear Award at the 34th Berlin International Film Festival.
In 1985, John Hurt received an award at the Evening Standard British Film Awards for his role in the film.
We are the winners in the competition
we come first and you come second
stopped all the talk and did the action
coming with the force to rule the function
we got to show them that we are the ones
who got the crown and are second to none
We are the winners inna dis ya session
Conquering victor born Champion
We come to tear up the place with style
Yer we come to turn up the heat get wild
We are the champions wow wow wow
We are the champions wow wow wow wow wow
We are the champions wow wow wow
We are the champions heavyweight champion
(chorus)
We rules the ring we are the heavy weight don
No pussy test or dem feel the action
We got to show them that we are the one's
We got the belt bring on the titans
Who got the trophy and we run the land
Don't try to take it or well tear of you hand
No time for losers in a dis profession
Conquering victor born Champion
We come to tear up the place with style
Yer we come to turn up the heat get wild
Chorus
Middle 8
We come to tear up the place with style
Yer we come to turn up the heat get wild
Chorus to end
[Intro: bell ringing]
Good evening ladies and gentlemen
This is your main event of the evening
[PMD]
Yeah, check it, one time, one time, one time
PMD and B-Real, Cypress Hill, Hit Squad
Yeah, you niggas know the deal
Check it, check it, comin' through, uh, Hit Squad
[PMD]
Sirens blare, niggas wildin' out over chairs
The men here, so sealable doors, so stand clear
Breath takin', niggas rollin' up with the gat shakin'
No puss here, brothers sadly mistaken
The chains breakin', back to check the rules you fakin'
That's violation, like a Muslim eatin' bacon
Much got the beat breakin', faggots niggas instigatin'
I'm runnin' with the law while you triple six in your Satan
Comin' in blastin', with no maskin', niggas askin'
"How he lastin'?" Jewels, with the tool flashin'
Blacked out now I'm lacked in, I'ma second win
More oxygen, niggas on my jock again
[B-Real]
Runnin' with the PMD, universal, no rehearsal
controversial, no commercial
All rough and rugged, you buckin' off at the straight thuggin'
Audio thumpin' and head bumpin'
Motherfuckers wanna hear somethin', CD's jumpin'
Thumpin' the ground all of a sudden
In the mist of the smoke I shut it - all competition
Set the condition to submission
From the contact I'm sparkin' at brain cells
through songs and magazines and through the e-mail
I'm worldwide, six side, killafornia highs
No time, define, no wolfs, we need the blind
to the slaughter, I'm baptizin' you through the water
Pure hip-hop and D makes you grow like weed, proceed
That's right, Soul Assassins, the Hit Squad, Cypress Hill
All up in your dome piece
[Outro: PMD]
...keep the house bumpin', we be the champions
Get the announcements, keep the whole house bumpin'
You want somethin', we the champions
Keep the house thumpin', get announcements
Let them know that you won bitch, we be the champions
We be the champions, we be the champions
(Intro: *bell ringing*)
Good evening ladies and gentlemen
This is your main event of the evening
(PMD)
Yeah, check it, one time, one time, one time
PMD and B-Real, Cypress Hill, Hit Squad
Yeah, you niggas know the deal
Check it, check it, comin' through, uh, Hit Squad
(PMD)
Sirens blare, niggas wildin' out over chairs
The men here, so sealable doors, so stand clear
Breath takin', niggas rollin' up with the gat shakin'
No puss here, brothers sadly mistaken
The chains breakin', back to check the rules you fakin'
That's violation, like a Muslim eatin' bacon
Much got the beat breakin', faggots niggas instigatin'
I'm runnin' with the law while you triple six in your Satan
Comin' in blastin', with no maskin', niggas askin'
"How he lastin'?" Jewels, with the tool flashin'
Blacked out now I'm lacked in, I'ma second win
More oxygen, niggas on my jock again
(B-Real)
Runnin' with the PMD, universal, no rehearsal
controversial, no commercial
All rough and rugged, you buckin' off at the straight thuggin'
Audio thumpin' and head bumpin'
Motherfuckers wanna hear somethin', CD's jumpin'
Thumpin' the ground all of a sudden
In the mist of the smoke I shut it - all competition
Set the condition to submission
From the contact I'm sparkin' at brain cells
through songs and magazines and through the e-mail
I'm worldwide, six side, killafornia highs
No time, define, no wolfs, we need the blind
to the slaughter, I'm baptizin' you through the water
Pure hip-hop and D makes you grow like weed, proceed
That's right, Soul Assassins, the Hit Squad, Cypress Hill
All up in your dome piece
(Outro: PMD)
...keep the house bumpin', we be the champions
Get the announcements, keep the whole house bumpin'
You want somethin', we the champions
Keep the house thumpin', get announcements
Let them know that you won bitch, we be the champions
We be the champions, we be the champions
(*bell rings twice*)
Damn you just been hit in the head world wide exclusive
Chorus
Champion
Lord!
I creep upon n'e-yah slow
ANGEL AND HEAVEN
The Right ones those to kill for!
Champions
E-yion
Looking how my car shine
Look' howdah time fly
G- Force (2 x)
We all Champions (7 times repeat)
A (7 times repeat)
JUICY J
Main lot
Seller car,
Watch the car,
Bus the car,
Make the club
Light the bar
Blood the trigger bus the bar
Make the court gat the cases
Meeting (Lucifer) fucking changes
Wanna rid with tiny doors
Pull mine car out the bars (past)
Lead the state tight with your girl
Heard she like the rock stars
All the porno playing
I'm give her some capper'
Everyday balling fifty roots
You can watch us
Chief with rock stars
Eat shrimp and pasta
They call me the (Juice 6 x)
I gigolo like (Deuce 6 x)
I'm champion with (Luc 6 x)
I guess, I am the (Truth 6 x)
Chorus
DJ PAUL
Shut' Nigga
Only been knock
Same wood
I'm winner baby
I Gat Gilligan backing days
I miss same dealers' baby
What Matter what they say (say)
We made it anyway (way)
How long we will or take or Hell (Hell)
There so yesterday
I grab that Oscar Bess
Race royal and take it home
It is a perfect win
I seeming we got hated on
We kept peace 'of' m'all dogs
And I' ren't won the trial
He go my... hates
Kiss see goodbye!
I'm dope dealer
Like my homey young jeez
Call me crab with these symbols
I'm make more jeez
From a ring tone
Kan girl, hear me ring you color
Don't worry about whole world
Doubt seeing man colla
[Verse:]
We have a message just for you:
There are champions right here in this room.
Every time you hear, hear this melody,
Be reminded of your authority.
[Chorus x3:]
Champions (champions), champions (champions),
That's what we are.
[Verse:]
We have a message just for you:
There are champions right here in this room.
Every time you hear, hear this melody,
Be reminded of your authority.
[Chorus x4]
[Bridge:]
Champion... that's what God made me
With authority over the enemy
He promised me that our eyes can see
With victory and authority
Yeah...
Oh, oh... oh, oh... that's what we are.
Oh, oh... oh, oh... oh, oh...
That's what we are.
[x3]
Champion, that's what God made me.
Champion...
[x3]
[DJ Clue *echoes*]
Yeah... DJ Clue... Desert Storm... The Roc...
This shit right here... The Roc Army...
Dame Dash Presents... The Dream Team niggaz...
Word...
[samples from "We Are the Champions" used by Dream Team w/ permission of Queen]
Time after time / I've done my sentence / but committed no crime
I've done my sentence / but committed no crime
I've done my sentence / but committed no crime, crime, crime
And we mean to go on and on and on and on
[Dame Dash: speaking over Queen samples]
Sup y'all? Yo, this is Dame Dash the CEO
Here to welcome y'all to the Dream Team
What y'all niggaz thought I was gonna rap? Never
I'm just a little mad at niggaz comin at my neck
Like my Team ain't the best in the world... y'knahmsayin?
Like we ain't got Beans, Cam, Jay, Bleek, Freeway
[Chorus: exactly mirrors chorus of Queen's "We Are the Champions"]
We are the champions, my friend
And we'll keep on fighting, to the end
We are the champions, we are the champions
No time for losers / cause we are the champions... of the world
[Dame Dash]
Got damn Kanye! I bet niggaz didn't know you could rap huh? (They didn't)
That's my motherfuckin producer
This the producer on the Roc, he rap better than most rappers!
[Kanye West]
Well Dame if these niggaz thought about they self for a change
Then maybe they can finally figure out how to get they self some change
I done seen jealousy make niggaz do t-terrible things
How the song go, I do a hoe, oh yea shit'll never change
That so, worry though, we are the cham-p-ions
Spend a lot of time in Hampt-i-ons, do a lot of beats you can't be on
Damn all these fans can't be wrong, damn B.I.G. you can't be gone
Make those beats thugs want to rock, make a nigga feal just like 'Pac
Make it street but it just might pop, make it straight to the mountain top
Had the Chi' on lock, when they finally heard our sound with Roc
Came in the game, changed it again, changed everything, yeahhhhh
If you feelin this here, throw your fuckin hands in the air
[Chorus]
[Young Chris - over Chorus]
Its the Roc-a-Fella label baby fuck them other labels baby
And we been duckin shots from all them haters lately
We gettin paper baby, them others tryin to keep up
We on top, so I guess we they saviors - NOPE!
We labelled as the Roc-A-Fellas, Jacob, watch's colors
Everywhere hell yea, test us and the gauges BLOW!
Fuck they hatin fo'? Don't make me pop a fella
Roc-A-Fella, stop a fella, could get hot for fellas, SIG!!!
[Beanie Sigel]
WHAT?! Don't make me chop up fellas, have to call the cops on fellas
Order helicopter fellas... NIG-GA! I'm a Roc-A-Fella
What nigga for Roc-A-Fella shit I will rock a fella
Dame! (God damn Beans I got this let me talk my shit one time)
No we the illest niggaz; realest, I will kill these niggaz!!
[Dame Dash]
Now that's what the fuck I'm talkin bout!
And you wonder why I'm proud of my family?
And you wonder why I ain't gotta rap?
I got niggaz that will assassinate you B, lyrically!
Really shut you the fuck down!! Don't get your career ended
Leave us the fuck alone, let us roc!
We are Roc-Heusen, we're the R., O., C. - HOLLA!
[Cam'Ron]
I'm here Dame, I'm here, Killa
This is just fate, how I would sit on a crate
Listen to tapes everyday a frisk was at stake
Chicks cuffs risk gettin raped my mission was straight thug
Visit them states near them great Michigan lakes
And fuck a bathroom, I pissed on the gate
Flipped a bird outta flip a bird switch up my plates
I got plans that was better than jail
Now look we like Bird, Parish, Kevin McHale
Scott, Worthy, Jabbar, and Magic
Oh my god it's Magic, Isiah, Dumars, I will carve your casket
Feel Scotty and Mike, feel Shaq and Kobe
My gats will de-tatch you homie
And I'm friends with thugs, I sell endless drugs
For the Roc Fam dog I extend my love
Jay, Bleek, beef I'll be crossin the bridge
Tossin they wigs make corpse of they kids
Free, O, Sparks and Mack Mittens
I'm 95 south, no doubt, mac clip in
I stack chips and, I'm Sacs Fifth-in
Louis Vuitton loughers, hat drippin
I go retrieve a duck, tell her proceed and suck
I don't just beat my cases, I beat 'em up
My lawyer eat 'em up put bars behind me
I'm glad they didn't stop that car behind me
Shit, it had three felons, gun shooters no
50 cal. A.C.P. Bazooka Joe
Don't be stupid though, I get scrilla man
I'm for'rilla man, yeah it's killa Cam
Uhhh... DIPSET BITCH!
[Chorus] - overlaps the end of Cam's verse
[Dame Dash]
What y'all thought I was finished?
I'm not! I just recuited somebody new!
I'm like the George Steinbrenner of this shit
I mean I'm rich like him, HOLLA!
[Twista]
Everybodys swarmin oh my god
It's the newest power forward of the squad
A legacy like Jordan with the mob
That be known for breakin motherfuckers hard
Put Roc-A-Fella on my pinky ring
Fuck a battle nigga I'ma get them thangs
Rollin with them Lords and them folks up out the Chi
Twista gone make em spit the game
I represent the mob to the fullest
You don't want it with that boy who's known to pull it
With Kanye on the track of the Dream Team
I'm fin' to be the shit no matter which way you put it
They blessed a nigga in, now I'm fin' to go into a zone
Takin it to some motherfuckers domes
Cause it's on, I will rock until I'm gone
Fillin my body with lead, clutchin chrome
Take it to your gut, take it to your chest
I be more provokin when I'm smokin sess
And we gettin stronger hope you got a vest
Already got them macs, already got them techs
Served a few dimes, Beans got pearls
Legendary we on top of the world
How could you haters think we can be done
Hold it down because we got champions!!
[Chorus]
[DJ Clue]
[Chorus]
We the champions, we the champions, we the champions
Doin what they said can't be done, doin what they said can't be done
We the champions, we the champions, we the champions
Doin what they said can't be done, doin what they said can't be done
(X1)
We bringin it home, playin like Shaq and Kob'
Cash to blow, trees lit, glass of mo
Various styles, crossin like Darius Miles
Lockin it down, the game got me leery to smile
Movin too slow, gettin tired, pick up the flow
Passin go, two bricks to get in the goal
Pushin that weight, front line like Michigan State
Jail board, punk players gettin bumps on their face
The strong survive, shorty wanna jump in the ride
Lovin my life, that's why I gotta spit it through mics
Halftime, smoke break, I need somethin to light
Game over, niggaz goin home losers tonight
[Chorus]
(Fredro Starr)
Call me the first draft pick of this rap shit
Runnin the block like a runnin back duckin from d's
Get knocked on the fifty yard line with hard time
Side lines flooded with drops, cops is the ref
New York is like a contact sport, we play to the death
Money to floss, hos play off a nigga cost
Only rollin with the winners, not the team that lost
The game is wild, I'm like Ray Louis on trial
Flagrant fouls, hit with techs in the fort down
Connects get intercept for their coke in the first round
Be the game most rival thug, rhyme on thug
Blowin ya amps, Onyx is the Eastcoast champs
[Chorus]
(Sticky Fingaz)
It's Sticky Fingaz, holla, let me know you heard me
My team dirty, scuffed up timbs and black jerseys
Bulletproof pads, face masks and no mercy
Cooler full of henny and sprite for when I'm thirsty
I'm a sore loser, toughened up, learn to win
If a clip hold a hundred I'll put a hundred and ten
The game face bald head niggaz done it again
Celebratin, takin pictures out in front of the benz
And still we remain the champions
In dirty escalades, tinted up with fancy rims
And still we do the shit that can't be done
Every word that come out my mouth is an anthem