It's the wild wild west
It's the wild wild west (shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up)
Shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up (it's the wild wild west)
It's the wild wild west (shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up)
The wild wild west
Shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up (the wild wild west), uh
The wild wild west

Josey Wales was known for robbing trains and things
Laying everybody down for diamond rings and chains
It remains the same in the year you live in, see (why?)
'Cause if I pull out some heat, nigga, you gon' kick in (kick in)
And that's just the rules set by the fool from the old school
When it's time to duel, you get two men
Two heaters, one street, one clock
And when it strike twelve, one of y'all gon' drop
If you quick on the draw, you gon' see tomorrow (mhm)
But if you too slow
I catch you on the down-low (oh no)
Oh no, you mean to kill? Shit's real
He ain't no John Wayne, these niggas gang-bang
The Four Horsemen, that's the clique I'm with
You mean them little bitty niggas with the itchy trigger fingers?
Yeah, we on a mission to Kansas, slipping through Texas
We stopped at Bonanza to get us some hot cakes
Bacon and eggs, then we slid in the whorehouse to get us some leg
Hop back on the horses, enforcers of courses (ha ha ha)
Them niggas in black, the fearless Four Horsemen
Searching for this location on the map (on the map)
The Gold Rush, baby, got to have that (I gots to have that)
It feels just like it's 1865 (come on)
And a trigger look-a-day is how I ride (you know)

On and on and on it's more strange
Time to hit the shooting range
Quick with the heater on their hip
Young Jesse James came to test your aim (test it)
I seen you at the Wild Horny Corral
I heard of your name (yab, yab, yab)
Get falsified, nigga you ain't never lied
Besides, I'm in the mood, so at high noon we ride (ride) (let's ride)
From coast to coast, niggas mash on every stagecoach
My disciples with rifles lethal and hold posts
The off-the-rocker rollercoaster
On a six-shooter holster
With D-P-G on every wanted poster (D-P-G)
Let me think about which bank to gank (about what? Uh huh)
Which fella to shoot and which teller to shank (shh)
I want all the shit you got in stacks
Attached to this skirt on the corner
So I snatched the bitch in the back (come on bitch)
The dawg in me feels for the lust (the lust)
But the hog in me makes me wanna bust (nigga bust)
Back to the drawn-down board
Nowadays we drawin' down more
To survive the all around wars (so)
Battle up, or saddle up and shake the scene
Or get your pockets shaken clean, slugs in your spleen
I can't help it (uh uh), I'm heartless, you can't hack it (hack it, hack it)
With my six-shooters on my hips and dusty jacket (jacket, jacket)
Like that, cock back (cock what?)
Quick to pull my strap (why?)
Just to put the Horsemen on the map
The Gold Rush

For this Doggystyle individual, James got the hots
I got six shots for all the plans and plots
I got lots of cash stashed in money bags
Worthy workers for all the Russian blabbermouths and gags
I got stacks (stacks, stacks) so my stacks excel
Hop in the coach with my twelve Clydesdales and bells
I'm on the move, smooth, to my decoy horse
A .30, .30 on my side to shoot a nigga of course
It ain't no stopping young Josey
Box all the nosey
Headed to the saloon with my platoon where all the hoes be
Left a dusty trail (trail), bailed (swell) in swell
Gold spurs on the gators, set back the clientele
Oh well, for the re-cop I'll prop my bet
Divide between my homies and ride the sunset

Two sacks of money from the train heist
They ain't even counted it up
Just mounted it up (let's go Westcoast)
Rode West toward the coast-a, six-shooters in the holster
Pass through a run-down town whose walls hold my poster
The closer I get to death, which is every second, makes me sweat
So I gotta have what I can get
Heard word about the Gold Rush (Gold Rush) and headed West
On my white horsey with three straps in my knapsack
Giddy up, the next town I rode through
I had to threaten to blow they city up
Bumped heads with Chief Blackhawk, five miles west
Sellin' some beads, inhalin' some weed
He offered me a toke
He didn't have a joint, he had that peace pipe smoke
I almost choked
Grateful for the get-right, I'm off into the sunset
Tryna reach my destiny fast
It's these two bags of cash
.44's cocked, I ain't making no more stops
'Til I hit the spot, I made it twelve on the dot
I slid off my boots, counted my loot (oh, yeah)
Five minutes after the strike of midnight
I counted two hundred G's, I cocked my strap and slept tight

(At the Gold Rush, at the Gold Rush)
(At the Gold Rush, at the Gold Rush, at the Gold Rush)

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