| [CLEF]：CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Forty-five by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. | |
| [PACE1] | |
| Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen | |
| You shot your bullet, but the bullet when **** | |
| Desperado, do work for new boy | |
| I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy | |
| [WYCLEF] | |
| Wyclef | |
| [PACE1] | |
| Pace 1 | |
| [WYCLEF] | |
| Yo this was how the West was won, | |
| [PACE1] | |
| Our motto, a true Desperado. | |
| [WYCLEF] | |
| Rappers want to be actors | |
| So they play the Jesse James Character | |
| [PACE1] | |
| And get they bones fractured. | |
| [PACE1] | |
| You ain't got no guns, you off to the precinct | |
| Inside tuff guys are feminine like Sheena Easton | |
| [WYCLEF] | |
| Woman cry, woman cry, Son still dies | |
| Thrown off the building like the Fall guy | |
| Caved in the grave cause you didn't know how to behave | |
| Playin' cowboy now you sleep with the slaves | |
| [PACE1] | |
| Who's the desperado, sellin' bottles in the alley | |
| On some villain shit, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey | |
| With his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot | |
| Pace 1 dies with both eyes on the jackpot | |
| [WYCLEF] | |
| The town that I'm from beggars eat cat chowder | |
| Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher | |
| If you see him coming, you better start running | |
| Like a terrorist I guarantee you he'll be humming. | |
| [PACE1] | |
| Dynamite, dynamite, Clef I got the cash | |
| [WYCLEF] | |
| Yo let's skip town like Harlem nights. | |
| [LAURYN] | |
| We make moves in stage coaches | |
| Ra Digga likes the roaches | |
| If anyone approaches | |
| We be like noches, buenos | |
| And I compose a poem for the many gun-slingers | |
| R & B singers, perpetrating guns with two fingers. | |
| [RA DIGGA] | |
| My style is perhaps one of the foulest | |
| I inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice. | |
| (Buckin' at stars) and write rhymes for hours | |
| The ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours. | |
| [LAURYN] | |
| Bust this scenario, can't no other niggers in the barrio | |
| (From Newark to Ontario), bust us when we in stereo. | |
| Cause me and Rashida rock the battles | |
| It's apparent, your no talent, cause your blazin' in your saddle. | |
| [RA DIGGA] | |
| Watch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets | |
| Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips | |
| Cause props is up, Digga's through the roof | |
| Burnin' niggers like I'm 90 proof. | |
| [LAURYN] | |
| And for all you head beaters | |
| The lead eaters, the cheaters soon to be retreaters | |
| While mamasitas carry real heaters. | |
| [RA DIGGA] | |
| I rock the Dooby and | |
| L rocks the Nubian twists 96 | |
| Muthafuckas gettin' dissed | |
| [CLEF]:CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Forty-five by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. | |
| [YOUNG ZEE] | |
| Yeah, when the OUT's hooked up with the Refugees | |
| It be more niggas than the NAACP | |
| Comin' up on weed of all type | |
| Smokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes. | |
| [PRAZ] | |
| (You've got to know when to hold them, | |
| Know when to fold them) | |
| I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine | |
| Steal your concubine, walk away with your goldmine. | |
| [YOUNG ZEE] | |
| So ooh aaah achiga, Mamase Mamasa Mamakusa | |
| [PRAZ] | |
| Fuck the sheriff, I shot John Wayne | |
| Push him off the runaway train in the movie Shane | |
| Yeah me and that kid, um 'What's his name?' | |
| [YOUNG ZEE] | |
| That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain | |
| Smokin' pure from the health fodd store, | |
| While my whore slaps cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor | |
| Fuck with OUT's it's like those Islam brothers, | |
| We march through your hood with a million muthafuckas. | |
| So let's get high off the Fu-Gee-La | |
| When the east is in the house, like I'm Blahzay-blah | |
| [FORTE] | |
| When pandemonium strikes, at midnight | |
| Full moon splits soft niggas in a lunatic | |
| On some absurd shit | |
| You talk back, hustlin' crack don't make you bigger | |
| Niggas who take your measurements quick, don't make it quicker. | |
| Stick and slide with vigor | |
| City streets hot like liquor | |
| 21 gun salutin, shootin' niggas from the roof and | |
| Got nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin' | |
| Your whole style is loose and we gon' sew it like it's cotton. | |
| You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten | |
| the bounty on your head, says your dead by manana | |
| Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body dropped, behind the lot | |
| Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block | |
| Medina is the east side of town lounge never till we yawnin' | |
| Gun players regular front page is the bonus | |
| Life will keep existing while I'm shitin' on the corners | |
| Life will keep existing while I'm shitin' on the corners | |
| [CLEF]:CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Forty-five by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. |
| CLEF: CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Fortyfive by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. | |
| PACE1 | |
| Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen | |
| You shot your bullet, but the bullet when | |
| Desperado, do work for new boy | |
| I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Wyclef | |
| PACE1 | |
| Pace 1 | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Yo this was how the West was won, | |
| PACE1 | |
| Our motto, a true Desperado. | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Rappers want to be actors | |
| So they play the Jesse James Character | |
| PACE1 | |
| And get they bones fractured. | |
| PACE1 | |
| You ain' t got no guns, you off to the precinct | |
| Inside tuff guys are feminine like Sheena Easton | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Woman cry, woman cry, Son still dies | |
| Thrown off the building like the Fall guy | |
| Caved in the grave cause you didn' t know how to behave | |
| Playin' cowboy now you sleep with the slaves | |
| PACE1 | |
| Who' s the desperado, sellin' bottles in the alley | |
| On some villain shit, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey | |
| With his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot | |
| Pace 1 dies with both eyes on the jackpot | |
| WYCLEF | |
| The town that I' m from beggars eat cat chowder | |
| Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher | |
| If you see him coming, you better start running | |
| Like a terrorist I guarantee you he' ll be humming. | |
| PACE1 | |
| Dynamite, dynamite, Clef I got the cash | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Yo let' s skip town like Harlem nights. | |
| LAURYN | |
| We make moves in stage coaches | |
| Ra Digga likes the roaches | |
| If anyone approaches | |
| We be like noches, buenos | |
| And I compose a poem for the many gunslingers | |
| R B singers, perpetrating guns with two fingers. | |
| RA DIGGA | |
| My style is perhaps one of the foulest | |
| I inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice. | |
| Buckin' at stars and write rhymes for hours | |
| The ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours. | |
| LAURYN | |
| Bust this scenario, can' t no other niggers in the barrio | |
| From Newark to Ontario, bust us when we in stereo. | |
| Cause me and Rashida rock the battles | |
| It' s apparent, your no talent, cause your blazin' in your saddle. | |
| RA DIGGA | |
| Watch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets | |
| Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips | |
| Cause props is up, Digga' s through the roof | |
| Burnin' niggers like I' m 90 proof. | |
| LAURYN | |
| And for all you head beaters | |
| The lead eaters, the cheaters soon to be retreaters | |
| While mamasitas carry real heaters. | |
| RA DIGGA | |
| I rock the Dooby and | |
| L rocks the Nubian twists 96 | |
| Muthafuckas gettin' dissed | |
| CLEF: CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Fortyfive by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. | |
| YOUNG ZEE | |
| Yeah, when the OUT' s hooked up with the Refugees | |
| It be more niggas than the NAACP | |
| Comin' up on weed of all type | |
| Smokin' homegrown out tobacco pipes. | |
| PRAZ | |
| You' ve got to know when to hold them, | |
| Know when to fold them | |
| I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine | |
| Steal your concubine, walk away with your goldmine. | |
| YOUNG ZEE | |
| So ooh aaah achiga, Mamase Mamasa Mamakusa | |
| PRAZ | |
| Fuck the sheriff, I shot John Wayne | |
| Push him off the runaway train in the movie Shane | |
| Yeah me and that kid, um ' What' s his name?' | |
| YOUNG ZEE | |
| That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain | |
| Smokin' pure from the health fodd store, | |
| While my whore slaps cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor | |
| Fuck with OUT' s it' s like those Islam brothers, | |
| We march through your hood with a million muthafuckas. | |
| So let' s get high off the FuGeeLa | |
| When the east is in the house, like I' m Blahzayblah | |
| FORTE | |
| When pandemonium strikes, at midnight | |
| Full moon splits soft niggas in a lunatic | |
| On some absurd shit | |
| You talk back, hustlin' crack don' t make you bigger | |
| Niggas who take your measurements quick, don' t make it quicker. | |
| Stick and slide with vigor | |
| City streets hot like liquor | |
| 21 gun salutin, shootin' niggas from the roof and | |
| Got nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin' | |
| Your whole style is loose and we gon' sew it like it' s cotton. | |
| You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten | |
| the bounty on your head, says your dead by manana | |
| Pop babies whisperin' that there' s a body dropped, behind the lot | |
| Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block | |
| Medina is the east side of town lounge never till we yawnin' | |
| Gun players regular front page is the bonus | |
| Life will keep existing while I' m shitin' on the corners | |
| Life will keep existing while I' m shitin' on the corners | |
| CLEF: CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Fortyfive by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. |
| CLEF: CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Fortyfive by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. | |
| PACE1 | |
| Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen | |
| You shot your bullet, but the bullet when | |
| Desperado, do work for new boy | |
| I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Wyclef | |
| PACE1 | |
| Pace 1 | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Yo this was how the West was won, | |
| PACE1 | |
| Our motto, a true Desperado. | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Rappers want to be actors | |
| So they play the Jesse James Character | |
| PACE1 | |
| And get they bones fractured. | |
| PACE1 | |
| You ain' t got no guns, you off to the precinct | |
| Inside tuff guys are feminine like Sheena Easton | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Woman cry, woman cry, Son still dies | |
| Thrown off the building like the Fall guy | |
| Caved in the grave cause you didn' t know how to behave | |
| Playin' cowboy now you sleep with the slaves | |
| PACE1 | |
| Who' s the desperado, sellin' bottles in the alley | |
| On some villain shit, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey | |
| With his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot | |
| Pace 1 dies with both eyes on the jackpot | |
| WYCLEF | |
| The town that I' m from beggars eat cat chowder | |
| Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher | |
| If you see him coming, you better start running | |
| Like a terrorist I guarantee you he' ll be humming. | |
| PACE1 | |
| Dynamite, dynamite, Clef I got the cash | |
| WYCLEF | |
| Yo let' s skip town like Harlem nights. | |
| LAURYN | |
| We make moves in stage coaches | |
| Ra Digga likes the roaches | |
| If anyone approaches | |
| We be like noches, buenos | |
| And I compose a poem for the many gunslingers | |
| R B singers, perpetrating guns with two fingers. | |
| RA DIGGA | |
| My style is perhaps one of the foulest | |
| I inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice. | |
| Buckin' at stars and write rhymes for hours | |
| The ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours. | |
| LAURYN | |
| Bust this scenario, can' t no other niggers in the barrio | |
| From Newark to Ontario, bust us when we in stereo. | |
| Cause me and Rashida rock the battles | |
| It' s apparent, your no talent, cause your blazin' in your saddle. | |
| RA DIGGA | |
| Watch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets | |
| Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips | |
| Cause props is up, Digga' s through the roof | |
| Burnin' niggers like I' m 90 proof. | |
| LAURYN | |
| And for all you head beaters | |
| The lead eaters, the cheaters soon to be retreaters | |
| While mamasitas carry real heaters. | |
| RA DIGGA | |
| I rock the Dooby and | |
| L rocks the Nubian twists 96 | |
| Muthafuckas gettin' dissed | |
| CLEF: CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Fortyfive by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. | |
| YOUNG ZEE | |
| Yeah, when the OUT' s hooked up with the Refugees | |
| It be more niggas than the NAACP | |
| Comin' up on weed of all type | |
| Smokin' homegrown out tobacco pipes. | |
| PRAZ | |
| You' ve got to know when to hold them, | |
| Know when to fold them | |
| I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine | |
| Steal your concubine, walk away with your goldmine. | |
| YOUNG ZEE | |
| So ooh aaah achiga, Mamase Mamasa Mamakusa | |
| PRAZ | |
| Fuck the sheriff, I shot John Wayne | |
| Push him off the runaway train in the movie Shane | |
| Yeah me and that kid, um ' What' s his name?' | |
| YOUNG ZEE | |
| That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain | |
| Smokin' pure from the health fodd store, | |
| While my whore slaps cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor | |
| Fuck with OUT' s it' s like those Islam brothers, | |
| We march through your hood with a million muthafuckas. | |
| So let' s get high off the FuGeeLa | |
| When the east is in the house, like I' m Blahzayblah | |
| FORTE | |
| When pandemonium strikes, at midnight | |
| Full moon splits soft niggas in a lunatic | |
| On some absurd shit | |
| You talk back, hustlin' crack don' t make you bigger | |
| Niggas who take your measurements quick, don' t make it quicker. | |
| Stick and slide with vigor | |
| City streets hot like liquor | |
| 21 gun salutin, shootin' niggas from the roof and | |
| Got nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin' | |
| Your whole style is loose and we gon' sew it like it' s cotton. | |
| You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten | |
| the bounty on your head, says your dead by manana | |
| Pop babies whisperin' that there' s a body dropped, behind the lot | |
| Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block | |
| Medina is the east side of town lounge never till we yawnin' | |
| Gun players regular front page is the bonus | |
| Life will keep existing while I' m shitin' on the corners | |
| Life will keep existing while I' m shitin' on the corners | |
| CLEF: CHORUS | |
| Everyone wants to be a cowboy | |
| Grab your guns boy | |
| Fortyfive by my side, | |
| No the nigger dies. |
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