Lyrics Cowboys - J.Period, The Fugees, Outsidaz

Cowboys

This is the fugees, outsiders up in here:
:chorus
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side,
No the nigger dies.
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
Pace 1
Yo this was how the west was won,
Our motto, a true desperado.
Rappers want to be actors
So they play the jesse james character
And get they bones fractured.
You aint got no guns, you off to the precinct
Inside tuff guys are feminine like sheena easton
Woman cry, woman cry, son still dies
Thrown off the building like the fall guy
Caved in the grave cause you didnt know how to behave
Playin cowboy now you sleep with the slaves
Whos 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
The town that Im 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 hell be humming.
Dynamite, dynamite, clef I got the cash
Yo lets skip town like harlem nights.
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.
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.
Bust this scenario, cant no other niggers in the barrio
(from newark to ontario), bust us when we in stereo.
Cause me and rashida rock the battles
Its apparent, your no talent, cause your blazin in your saddle.
Watch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets
Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips
Cause props is up, diggas through the roof
Burnin niggers like Im 90 proof.
And for all you head beaters
The lead eaters, the cheaters soon to be retreaters
While mamasitas carry real heaters.
I rock the dooby and
L rocks the nubian twists 96
Muthafuckas gettin dissed
:chorus
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side,
No the nigger dies.
Yeah, when the outs 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.
(youve 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.
So ooh aaah achiga, mamase mamasa mamakusa
Fuck the sheriff, I shot john wayne
Push him off the runaway train in the movie shane
Yeah me and that kid, um «whats his name?
«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 outs its like those islam brothers,
We march through your hood with a million muthafuckas.
So lets get high off the fu-gee-la
When the east is in the house, like Im blahzay-blah
When pandemonium strikes, at midnight
Full moon splits soft niggas in a lunatic
On some absurd shit
You talk back, hustlin crack dont make you bigger
Niggas who take your measurements quick, dont 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 its cotton.
You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten
The bounty on your head, says your dead by manana
Pop babies whisperin that theres 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 Im shitin on the corners
Life will keep existing while Im shitin on the corners
:chorus
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side,
No the nigger dies.