|
"Come on out with your hands high! |
|
"Hahahaha, with your hands high! |
|
Hahhaha huh I better reason with him" |
|
Why don't you ride to the rhythm of a nigga don't give a fuck about ya' |
|
Won't even talk about ya', ho |
|
You ain't know? I'm just a hustler, in spite of myself |
|
Ridin' all by myself, without no one else |
|
Looky here |
|
On my Doc Holidays, boy I piss upon your grave |
|
And wipe the smile away |
|
Nigga, don't even try |
|
Fistful of dollars, we gon' ride |
|
Ya hear me, nigga? |
|
See I ain't got that many friends, white tombstone |
|
[???] Me and Rudy go to war with - anybody |
|
From the niggas, to the killas |
|
They callin' me a bad man ridin' 'cross the desert plains |
|
And Mama still can't explain without the 'caine |
|
It's raw, boy |
|
Cowboys hear the "Yippie-yi-yay!" |
|
Murder dancin' where the Indians play |
|
Watch what you say |
|
Durin' the spiritual ritual huntified ceremony |
|
Clickin' swines[?] that'll get you on a Shetland pony |
|
Memoirs of a madman - Killer Carl Cox and Bill Watts |
|
'Couldn't rassle nappy niggas with a lasso |
|
Heated like Tabasco, it's on |
|
Nigga quick on the draw |
|
And he get to bustin' on them bitches like the Last Outlaw |
|
Uh, nigga what! |
|
"Hahha... |
|
Cowboy I'm gonna [???] you are a testly li'l cuss[whistling]" |
|
Niggas and bitches call me Nino Corleone, I got a license to kill |
|
But ain't no playa hatin' in me, I got love for the real |
|
So if you see me with my [guv?], just move and step aside |
|
Hit me up and let a nigga just ride |
|
South Side |
|
Got your mouth wide, buckin' for nothin' |
|
Now if you're 'bout it, be 'bout it 'bout it, and without no discussion |
|
Now if you're talkin', keep talkin', and get a dick in yo' mouth |
|
Don't hide now, torchin' up the whole house |
|
Know what I'm talkin' 'bout? |
|
Picture me coolin' on the 6th day of June |
|
Down in Cancun, Mexico |
|
But if you stress me, ho, I guess I gotta let it go |
|
And ain't no shootin' up at the moon |
|
I'm tryin' to knock yo' ass up out the saloon |
|
Cock, kaboom! |
|
In a raccoon hat like Davy Crockett |
|
Fuckin' wit' that opium, getting high as a rocket |
|
And, um, rocket gonna blast, for playin' with the trigger |
|
Nigga, rocket put a cap in a nigga(boo-ya!) |
|
Full a' that weed |
|
Watchin' motherfuckers bleed |
|
But not takin' heed |
|
Steady proceeding with their devilish deeds |
|
Fatal with flaw, mad at the world with no regards for the Law |
|
Finna' get to bustin' on them bitches like the last outlaw |
|
Huh, nigga, what! |
|
"I coulda killed ya Dick, I coulda killed ya. |
|
But I don't wanna kill ya, I wanna eat" |
|
I fought the Law, and the Law won |
|
You see, I shot the sheriff but forgot his son |
|
Totin' on a shotgun with pistol full of hot ones |
|
"Ay yo, sheriff, he still wit' you?" I popped him and dropped him |
|
And took his potna's crown |
|
It's a brand new sheriff in town |
|
And I don't think you wanna fuck around |
|
Double jeopardy for the deputy dog |
|
Fuckin' wit' a hog |
|
Say y'all, y'all motherfuckers tried to ball |
|
The rise and fall |
|
For y'all, nigga, I'll be a huckleberry |
|
Spittin' fire from the blood that me and Lucky Knuckles carry |
|
Legendary, hereditary for niggas that know |
|
I'm out the window with a stagecoach, fresh out the poke |
|
My homie Loc gave me an order that the blind could see |
|
Told me to blow him away, or make him ride with me |
|
Put on your boots, cowboy, and pass the pound |
|
I got the moonshine water makin' wine(nigga) |
|
One of a kind, genuine |
|
Know when to hold 'em and fold 'em |
|
Y'all niggas gotta give me mine before I roll 'em, though |
|
Playin' is raw |
|
Quick on the draw |
|
Hollerin' 'bout "Fuck what you saw!" |
|
Chewin' on straw |
|
Steady bustin' like the Last Outlaw! |
|
Huh, nigga what! |
|
"You gotta test yourself every day, gentlemen. |
|
One you stop testing yourself, you get slow. |
|
And when that happens, they kill you." |
|
[Gunshots and screams] |