Fugees — Cowboys

[Intro: Wyclef] (Bust) Yeah, this is the Fugees (Ahh, yeah) Outsidaz in here (This happens on the block every day) So, you wanna be a cowboy? Everybody, get your guns and meet me in the back right now [Chorus: Wyclef] Oh-lay-hee Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys Oh-lay-hee .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die [Verse 1: Wyclef & Pace Won] Zen, zen-zen-zen, zen-zen-zen You shot your bullet, but the bullet went— (Err) 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 tough 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 (Huh) 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 [Chorus: Wyclef] Oh-lay-hee Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy Oh-lay-hee .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die [Verse 2: Lauryn Hill & Rah Digga] We make moves in stage coaches, Rah Digga likes the roaches If anyone approaches, we like noches buenos Then 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, tame 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 (Rah Digga) Digga's through the roof, burnin' niggas like I'm 90 proof And for all y'all head beaters, the lead eaters The cheaters soon to be retreaters While mamacitas carry real heaters I rock the doobie and L rocks the Nubian twists Nine-six, motherfuckers gettin' dissed [Chorus: Wyclef & Young Zee] Oh-lay-hee Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys Oh-lay-hee .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (Yeah) [Verse 3: Pras & Young Zee] When the Outs hooked up with the refugees It be more niggas than the NAACP (Mad niggas) Comin' up on weed of all types Smokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes (C'mon) You've got to know when to hold 'em Know when to fold 'em I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine Steal your concubine, walk away with your gold mine 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 cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor Fuck with Outs ,it's like those Islam brothers We march through your hood with a million motherfuckers So let's get high off the fu-gee-la When the east is in the house like I'm Blahzay Blah' [Verse 4: Forté] When pandemonium strikes and midnight hits Full moon splits soft niggas and the lunatics 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 you dead by mañana Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body drop behind the lot Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block Medina is the east side of town lounge, never 'til we yawnin' Gun play is regular, front page is the bonus Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents [Chorus: Wyclef & Lauryn Hill] Oh-lay-hee Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy Oh-lay-hee .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (Cowboys) [Interlude] Yo, man It seem like we tryna get everybody, but they gettin' us You know what I'm sayin'? But, you know No need to cry 'cause everything gon' be alright, man It's gon' be alright, you know? You know, it's just ill, yo Last night, you know, all I seen was bullets and feet runnin' and backs, you know And when the smoke cleared it was a little joker on the ground, man No— Had to be no younger than thirteen, fourteen years old Blood pourin' from his head His mother on her— mother on her knees cryin', you know Cryin' her head off Tomorrow's headline is gonna be "The Death of Another Nigga" You know what I'm sayin'? "The Death of Another Nigga", you know? That's how it always is We cryin' for a afterlife while they just steal this one