Lyrics:
some business
With the big iron on his hip"
Big iron on his hip
In this town there lived an outlaw
By the name of Texas Red
Many men had tried to take
gonna
Warm my hands by the firing hole, I'm gonna
Wipe the dust from my bible scroll
Cause I'm an outlaw
I feel the shake and I'm caught on fire
I got
some business
With the big iron on his hip"
Big iron on his hip
In this town there lived an outlaw
By the name of Texas Red
Many men had tried to take
past
You see this outlaw went by Swampy
A mean, lean psychopathic machine
And it's part of his sickly plan to make the county feel unease
Oh can't you
a prisoner of love
Always hid from the light
Take me dancin'
Please take me dancin' tonight
Verse 1: (Will)
Friday night, 10 o'clock, feelin' hot
Me and my
verbals & graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm & Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like
despite these prisoners
They persist with the Chinese whispers and
Turn these victims to victors
But karma flies by like a discus
This cycle is vicious
Hey
no
Still struggling on, by herself
Got a picture of Jimmy
There on the shelf
And she looks at him and says
Why did we let it go
I know that
head out of the sand
Hit 'em with a big John Wayne, by God they'd understand
With a few more cowboys, be a lot less outlaws
With a few more amens,
verbals & graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm & Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like
about outlaws and mustangs, they always come home
They always come home
Go on, hit the highway, disappear in the night
You gotta see the world all by
Mutulu, Geronimo, Sekou
All the political prisoners, San Quentin (all close five! comin' down!")
Look at Satan, I see him
All the jailhouses, I'm with
Political prisoner, the two choices that they givin' us
Ride or die, for life they sentence us
Oh Black Jesus, please watch over my brother Shawn
Soon
Mutulu, Geronimo, Sekou
All the political prisoners, San Quentin (all close five! comin' down!")
Look at Satan, I see him
All the jailhouses, I'm with
and would-be outlaws who only know how to pretend
But there ain't no country music for old men
He was sitting on a bar stool the first time he heard Jolene
to remind me
Of the guns and the early graves
The ghosts appear as I fall asleep
To sing an outlaw's serenade
Dyin' ain't much of a livin'
When
of gun fire
Will not retire til I'm paid
Turn the base up higher
When we ride, we fly by
Bitches blow me kisses
Niggas from Compton to Brooklyn come
On get
can love it or leave it
Like it or not
American since the day I was born
Outlaw by the grace of God
Ain't no one gonna make me unmake my made-up
grown from a seed in the heart of the heartland| raised on mama's prayers and my daddy back hand||rocked in the cradle by a swaying wheat
honey scarlet dynasty
Yes I chose a hard road running
The naked son of one hung by a withering terebinth tree
Yes I was an outlaw
to lynchin'
The President ain't even listenin' to the pain of the youth
We make music for eternity, forever the truth
Political prisoner, the two choices that
the penitentiaries
Mumia, Mutulu, Geronimo, Sekon
All the political prisoners san Quentin
(who can save you) all the jailhouses
I'm with you yeah
One thug, one thug
around me
Press me to your chest
Block out the view
Oh, whoa whoa whoa
You made me
Some kind of criminal
You put me out-law
Because I loved
in saloon doors
Drinkin' double shots of whiskey, yeah
Wearing my single action piece
For all the honest world to see
I shoulda been an outlaw
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