Слушать песнюCowboys (Длительность 05:23)
Текст песни The Fugees - Cowboys
Everyone wants to be a cowboy Grab your guns boy .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die! Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen You shot your bullet, but the bullet went… «Desperado», new word for «rudeboy» I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy Wyclef, Pace Won, yo this was how the West was won Our motto, a true desperado Rappers want to be actors So they play the Jesse James call-up-card And get they bones fractured You ain’t 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 didn’t know how to behave Playin' cowboy now you sleep with the slaves 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 Pacewon dies with both eyes on the jackpot The town that I’m from beggars eat cat chowder Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher (Gimme that!) If you see him coming, you better start running Like a terrorist I guarantee you he’ll be humming Dynamite, dynamite, Clef I got the cash Yo let’s skip town like Harlem nights Everyone wants to be a cowboy Grab your guns boy .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die! We make moves in stage coaches, Rah 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, can’t no other niggas in the barrio From North to Ontario, bust us when we in stereo Cause me and Rashida rock the battles It’s apparent you’re no talent, cause you’re 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, Digga’s through the roof Burnin' niggas like I’m 90 proof And for all you head beaters The lead eaters, the cheaters soon to be retreaters While mamacitas carry real heaters I rock the Dooby and L rocks the Nubian twists 9−6, motherfuckers gettin' dissed Everyone wants to be a cowboy Grab your guns boy .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die! 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 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 So ooh-ahh-ahh-chi-ka Mama-se, mama-sa, mama-ma-ku-sa 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?» That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain Smokin' pure from the health food store While my whore slap cocks like Zsa Zsa Gabor Fuck with Outs 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 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 mañana 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 opponents Life will keep existing while I’m shitin' on opponents Everyone wants to be a cowboy Grab your guns boy .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die!
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