Song Lyrics

Wild Cowboys and you know this
Lookin at a Cowboy and you know they're dead

A lot of niggaz stepped up to the bad man
Chest bucked out with your head wide open
Hopin to spot a chip in this frame
I lived and died by the burnin flame
Of the OK Corral Cowboy style
From the Quarters on down to Colorado's
Big niggaz from uptown ridin into Tahoe's
Saloon settin kids is walkin round
Drinkin whiskey and scotch, strictly out of shotglasses
Lookin screwfaced at the next nigga who passes
There's women in garter belts and ciggarettes
And on the side there's the price game
Niggaz is playin the price game
Indian Red, was bangin niggaz in the head
With his man Apache Joe, they take your money off the floor
They side-bettin for a better, they makin cheddar
That tribal shit is work ya sound the wompom drums
Cause my Indian man'sll break your great dick, UHH
Walk in the New York terrority
On the back of a tree, there's a picture of me
It says I'm lawless, flawless, a hustler plus gun rustler
Wanted in Carolina, for sellin some of New York's finer
Marshal Cooper say he want me, Marshal Cooper gotta get me
Marshal Cooper say beat me, Marshal Cooper better wet me
I gather alla y'all, all of my trusted men
All of my baddest niggaz, niggaz that's quickest with the triggers
There's distrubin news on the wire
That my dome piece is done sent to piece out for hire
I ain't goin down over no money exchange
You late for say I, who reigns as King of the Range?

In this land of wildness
Yo you better pack your vest
In the streets there's nothin but crime
So you best to watch your behind...

Meanwhile saloon settin is back to full swing
Bar's gettin money people doin they thing
There's strictly Boss Players with this kid named Minnesota
As women start to fill up, turn the notch on the grill up
And add mo' stakes to the house banks for gamblers
Half-pipes to scramblers, and free for Wild Cowboys
You never bring decoys if you want to make real nouse
The bigger the stick, the bigger the fire
I never hit a man in the back, a coward acts like that
Lay out my black hat cause I feel like the bad man
Who on the rise, the D's to Manhattan
Let's walk the thirty paces on the Now Rule races
Oh it's the Marshal Cooper, and I love how he doin this
Women sayin don't get hurt, and I ain't plannin on it
Ten steps taken as I hit the blam factor
His dick to act up, was death the benefactor
Leave him twitchin in the dirt like Cousin Harold from the Menace
I'm in this to win this on the great wide trail
I'm ten times as bad as John Wayne, could ever be
Plus I'm down with the Indian, and need high to get the shit again
I'm responsible for that body in the alley
I'll Louisiana Purchase that ass with with Remi's spurs
And hard shots of Tequila, where the dancin girls
Let's get right as the story unfurls
Piano man keep playin, keep them keys bangin
Single man get three graves there's gonna be a hangin
Now this right here ain't for the youth to see
A grown man assed out swingin from a tree

In this land of wildness
Yo you better pack your vest
In the streets there's nothin but crime
So you best to watch your behind

Joe Tex was the biggest hombre from the projects
Had all the work locked down, so he thought
But he drank and got loose lipped, let a lot of news slip
Stripped of his game and got his self murdered
Thoughts of him are passin like the buffalo
Got his self rocked in the ninety-six brand new Acura
Niggaz said it was lightning BLAOW blew out the back mirror
Hah, youknowhatI'msayin? Dig, check it out
They say that Cowboys never die they just ride off into the sun
A little tale from Sadat X of how the WORLD was won
Check it out, remember this
Gun-slingers, dead-ringers with presidents
Is found tied with no explanation of how they died
Yo the great Sadat X, the High Plains Drifter
No question

In this land of wildness
Yo you better pack a vest
In the streets there's nothin but crime
So you best to watch your behind

Ennio Morricone, X Sadat

The duration of Hang 'Em High is 4:00 minutes and seconds.