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