Lyrics:
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the nigga dies
We make moves in stage coaches
Rah digga likes
Everyone wants to be a cowboy
Grab your guns boy
Forty-five by my side, do he live
No the nigga dies
Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen
You shot your
leaves ye, keeps on nagging in yer head,
And so ye pray to God for orders, but ye'll worry till yer dead...
Until they bury your remains in
Killing the pussy like veterinari'
God bless my dad its hereditary
Pull up with mask like Jim Carey
Smoking the finest, Mariah in 90's
I wont speak on it,
style, not heard by the usual
You bite you get damaged, so my brothers stay mutual
While I'm makin and takin, emcees shakin and flakin
Pre-heat my oven
blacking out, you better watch it, it's bedlam
I thought I heard a voice in my head that said, "Kill"
I had no other choice that was left except fill
My
where the corners is smoldering hot
My team is known for smokin' the glock
To the hole in your rock
(Terror Squad)
Somebody call the cops
For us
head
It's my fault its My fault I been falling since my Mind halted
My fault I, it's all in my head
Treat yourself is falling on deaf ears the sweets
hole
In my head
Scratch the surface
Of a broken reality
Red is blood
And green is greed
I can't take it anymore
Anymore
Anymore
Anymore
and said
I can't do no more for him Jim
With a hand that was trembling I picked up my gun
I aimed it at Shep's faithful head
I just couldn't do it I
JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!
Jump up and get down! Drill a Hole in the ground!
Minds get possessed by Different rhythms of sound
Its
into my hole
And I will not lie I can't
Be broken now not allowed
Late night's a hard time to gamble
Loading up my 45
Take one more pull from that Jim
them bugs by my bed
They still thinkin' that we coppin' sellin raw
Tryin' to put us through them Rico and them Rockefeller' laws
I'm in L.A. the top
intestines
I'm fully built with a blessing
But you my little Deuce Coupe you
Don't know what I got
I gotta little Deuce Deuce put
A hole in your hat
You need
Jim woke up on a wintry day
A beautiful red head stole his heart away
Forever never would his life be the same again
She had a heavenly heart
I get my pocket tapped Goodz
Ya Grape is in the street 'cause
Like Suge my pockets fat Goodz
Ya squad not strapped Goodz
Them guys by ya side will
Afraid to be shot in the streets blessed by light skin
Cursed by the melanin that could keep me from blending in
A choice I didn't have from birth was my
thrown in the hole
We chilling in the Trump Towers, onions and soul
Let's roll, cuz when the clock hit, my niggas'll bowl
It's like dice, nigga, open
the revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be brought
To you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial
the truth
Round and round till I crash right in front of you
It's over
Start over
Tie me down so my head stays below the clouds
Hang me up till I suffocate
this hole in my heart, a hole in my heart
There's a space in my head a hollow you left by my side in the bed
where I sleep in the shadows of broken
a hole
Your eyes blankened by the sound
And the thought of God
Where should I hang my head?
Where would you like for me
To hang my head
One
idolize coons in rap videos
That side with the oppressor and y’all still buying their shitty clothes
That’s not why i took 15 bullet holes
Man i tried
Your friend Jim was found dead in the ashtray (And i saw his head, i beat it)
Dehydrated alone and numb
Why were you ever so dumb
(Here we fucking go)
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