Mister Buckshot, he calls me Heehaw
Gave me all this crime; a Kalashnikov, a nine
Got eleven 30-30s, six .22s
I carry a whistle in my boot
Takin' pot shots across my empty lot
There's someone walkin' by, he ain't my kind of guy
I can tell by the way he moves
Like he's got a bum leg and a hatful of booze
Yo man, I'm the patrolman
You better go man, find your own land
Ya see, The Man Buck he runs this place
He gimme these guns and say keep away
Anyone who act a dumb fool
So I see you and go Boom Boom
Got ya two-steppin like The Gunsel Cal
Oh look, is this your honey come to help you now?
What's up meat? This my street!
You wanna compete? Ain't that sweet
Hope ya brought heat cause your man's weak
Got him dancin', the fuckin' nancy
Oh Corey, you scare nobody
Your guns are just twigs and Mr. Buck he's
Just a donkey that you don't feed
Come here donkey, have some parsley
You know not what it is!
That which what you say!
If these guns are just sticks
Then why does everybody walk away?
Cause no one fuckin' cares
About your stupid garbage patch
And those songs you sing daylong
are just a load of crap
Well then fuck you and fuck Buck too
And my tunes? They fuckin' groove
I'm takin' my show on the road
Gonna head on down to Tomato Cove
Hell yeah! Get out of here!
Ain't gonna last long with just a burro and a song.
Out there it's a land of moons
There's roving Goons and ranting hünds
I ain't scared! I been there!
Last winter! Ain't Shit there!
A couple of rabbits and some alleycats
I played some blues and we had a laugh
Then get gone! Take your dumb songs
But the donkey stays, we're gonna make
Sure he gets hay til his dying day
And even carrots on Tuesdays
all rights reserved
feeds for ,