Crook Catastrophe & The Gunblast Kid

[Verse 1: Kool G Rap] We ride into town a half after sundown Barge in saloons covered in scars and wounds Speak in the harshest of tunes, play cards with the goons Catch you cheating, blow your heart through the room It's the black Lee Van Cleef (No doubt) If it's beef we can do it in the streets where the quick hands meet We settle vendettas, cocking on that lever on metal With leather wet a Winchester, Beretta, let it put lead in your sweater Whoever meddle with cheddar, y'all better dead and behead us Too gutter clever, you read about us, we measuring feathers (Feathers) That boy and that girl is Hansel and Gretel endeavours The wild hooligans Six shooters spin for big moolah ends And Slick Rick The Ruler gems It's kid stuff, my shit bust through your jewellers lens With a few men that love to loot, feud and sin Villain apparel, double barrel under cougar skin Sick aim, one from the thing that'll lose your brim Second shot, your weapon drop but it bruise your skin (Try it) If it have to come to a third shot, homie that's a earth plot Guaranteed the squeeze be a murk shot (Yeah) Make the bartender pour another round of drinks (Round) Up in the brothel house, bitches walk around in pink (Yeah, girl) With trey-pounds, we make rounds around the bank Time is right, broad daylight, couple of gauges Teller clutching the wages, handkerchiefs cover the faces Easy labor, sheriff in town got our mug on the papers (Yeah) Dustin the Desert, boy, we dusted a dozen of haters Crook Catastrophe that's me One life to live, Gunblast Kid make you look at the ratchet piece Sunset, ride out of town on the horse carriage fleet [Chorus: Ian “Lemmy” Kilmister] If you like to gamble I tell you I'm your man You win some, lose some, it's all the same to me The pleasure is to play, it makes no difference what you say [Verse 2: Necro] Dangerous with a gat, change the position how I clap Buck you upside down like a bat, pop a slug through your hat I'm like John Wayne, more like Wayne Gacy with broads With my gun cocked, make you run it on more trains than Traci Lords Bastard, it's rob-a-dollar day Faster than Doc Holliday in a draw, each shot I blast is quality Llama revolvers, cook beef with crook creeps The drama I'm involved in makes the O.K. Corral look weak Pistol under the table, in poker leave you disabled Gun belt hang down to my dick, my peacemaker bang stables At range wars like Shane, Oklahoma Kid (Yee-hawl!) (Pop, pop!) Leave you in a coma, kid Spurs on my boot cut your grill, you twirl gats and impress girls You're cute with your skill, but me, I shoot to kill Rooting, tooting, looting, hollering, country jamboree A bandit like Ike Clanton, I'll clap you like a tambourine Don't get into shit with a thug, move on child Your hot girlfriend's tit is hit with a slug, it's bullets gone wild Disrespectful goons down with extortion of your pockets I'll protect your saloon for a portion of the profits Retards get veins cut with shards of glass over a game of cards While I sip Chardonnay with some dime broads Cold Crush, gold rush bandits Get rushed for your gold, blood rush from your holes when cannons blam, kid [Chorus: Ian “Lemmy” Kilmister] If you like to gamble I tell you I'm your man You win some, lose some, it's all the same to me The pleasure is to play, it makes no difference what you say