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[Red 1] Yo yo |
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We rude bwoys |
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Van-city outlaws |
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Yo, the Red reaper, bust back your street sweeper |
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Call Mr. Martin and the preacher |
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To the saloon, the showdown high noon |
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Men dressed all black, yo pon cock platoon |
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Outlaws, shedding blood by the liter |
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Saddle up, ride into the sun, done defeat ya |
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Ride out and scout a safe hideout |
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With a bounty on my head, that's the word of the moth |
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Misfit and |
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Red, wanted alive or dead |
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But Billy bad on the draw, cowboy ninja dread |
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Retreat to the bush where the |
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Indians live |
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To survive off the land, recuperating |
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Yo, walk the warpath like a brave |
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Mohican Then scalpel the tongue chief rocker speaking |
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Young gun, bust and murder the sound boy |
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Anything in my way, no choice but to destroy [CHORUS] [Inspectah Deck] "Hold my ground like it's high noon" [scratched by Kemo] [Misfit] |
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Trigger happy, blazing these mics to this undoubtedly |
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Unanimous that we the champ, to center your cipher |
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And blow up the ship, just to get a rep, that's the way we step |
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Droppin rhymes, so clean out the top |
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You think |
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I had a violent |
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Naughty locks chopping you down like box cutters |
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Spreading this lyric on the ideo like butters |
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Gripping neck, keeping next, the style that you missing |
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But you be getting it from the rendition |
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Hitting this rap game with some tight shit to remain ' |
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Cause it's only the quicker the dead and |
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I must remain |
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You know the name, |
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Misfit, speed of the mantis |
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Rhymes will split your wig at ten paces, show down shit |
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So bring it, you had your warning |
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Mr. Martin, is on his way with an open coffin |
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Talking your way out of this, won't happen |
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We taking it to the front of the stage with a gun clapping |
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And when we done with your, we run your crew out of town |
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Dis that shit, stomp your wack lick sound |
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Never come around or let us catch you on the rebound |
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We pound suckers like cats who can't rap, who want to clown [CHORUS] [Red 1] |
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Yo dressed and ready to shoot, in my bad boy suit |
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Pistol grip on the hip like these cowboy boots |
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Ready to rip, some running judgement day coming |
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When we clack and reload like |
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Kardinal done it |
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And ban it from the ground to the roof ' |
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Nuff chat dem rats, se we leave no proof |
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As we move, rarely got nothing to prove |
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Rough ride and abide by none of the rules |
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Work our vibe, watch the hand read the eyes |
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Quick draw, nobody moves nobody dies |
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Yo, we in control let the story be told |
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By the Rascal outlaws from the north coast [Misfit] |
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What, you didn't know, |
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FitnRed handle them foe |
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Take of the them soul, hang 'em out, let them die slow |
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And account of who the best was when they roll |
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Granted by the hand passage who afraid to explode |
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Yeah yeah, that's the way it goes |
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Anti-??? behold, we lay down tracks while the rest of be told |
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So best move and gets go, act like you've been told |
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By the heat of the sun or the tongue, when we let go [CHORUS] [Misfit (Red 1)] [Chorus continues in background] |
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Word, see what |
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I'm saying |
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Rascalz, straight up we ain't playing |
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North west side of things |
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The Outlaws laying it down |
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The story's already been told |
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Rascalz, is the way we come brother (Word up) |
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Word [repeated] (From the mountain top to the valley below) (Let the story be told my man, let it be told) [???] "That sound, is there time for hope?" |