The Score


This is the Fugees, Outsiders up in here: 

Everyone wants to be a cowboy 
Grab your guns boy 
Forty-five by my side, 
No the n***er dies. 

Zen, zen zen zen zen zen zen 
You shot your bullet, but the bullet when **** 
Desperado, do work for new boy 
I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy 

[WYCLEF:] Wyclef 

[PACE1:] [PACE 1]

[WYCLEF:] Yo this was how the West was won, 

[PACE1:] Our motto, a true Desperado. 

Rappers want to be actors 
So they play the Jesse James Character 

[PACE1:] And get they bones fractured. 

You ain't got no guns, you off to the precinct 
Inside tuff 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 
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 
Pace 1 dies with both eyes on the jackpot 

The town that I'm from beggars eat cat chowder 
Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher 
If you see him coming, you better start running 
Like a terrorist I guarantee you he'll be humming. 
PACE1: Dynamite, dynamite, Clef I got the cash 

[WYCLEF:] Yo let's skip town like Harlem nights. 

We make moves in stage coaches 
Rah Digga likes the roaches 
If anyone approaches 
We be like noches, buenos 
And 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 n***ers in the barrio 
(From Newark to Ontario), bust us when we in stereo. 
Cause me and Rashida rock the battles 
It's apparent, you're no talent, cause your blazin' in your

Watch these rap b***hes get all up in your pockets 
Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips 
Cause props is up, Digga's through the roof 
Burnin' n***ers like I'm 90 proof. 

And for all you head beaters 
The lead eaters, the cheaters soon to be retreaters 
While mamasitas carry real heaters. 

I rock the Dooby and 
L rocks the Nubian twists 
Muthaf***as gettin' dissed 

[CLEF: (Chorus)]
Everyone wants to be a cowboy 
Grab your guns boy 
Forty-five by my side, 
No the n***er dies. 

[Young Zee:]
Yeah, when the OUT's hooked up with the Refugees 
It be more n***as than the NAACP 
Comin' up on weed of all type 
Smokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes. 

(You've got to know when to hold them, 
Know when to fold them) 
I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine 
Steal your concubine, walk away with your goldmine. 
Young Zee: So ooh aaah achiga, Mamase Mamasa Mamakusa 

F*** 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?" 

[Young Zee:]
That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain 
Smokin' pure from the health fodd store, 
While my whore slaps cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor 
F**k with OUT's it's like those Islam brothers, 
We march through your hood with a million muthaf***as. 
So let's get high off the Fu-Gee-La 
When the east is in the house, like I'm Blahzay-blah 

When pandemonium strikes, at midnight 
Full moon splits soft niggas in a lunatic 
On some absurd s**t 
You talk back, hustlin' crack don't make you bigger 
N***as 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 your dead by manana 
Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body dropped, behind the
Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block 
Medina is the east side of town lounge never till we yawnin' 
Gun players regular front page is the bonus 
Life will keep existing while I'm s***tin' on the corners 
Life will keep existing while I'm s***tin' on the corners 

[CHORUS: (Clef)]
Everyone wants to be a cowboy 
Grab your guns boy 
Forty-five by my side, 
No the n***er dies. 

Fugees Lyrics

The Score Lyrics

Cowboys Lyrics

All Lyrics   Fugees Lyrics    The Score Lyrics    

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