GunfightThe Mighty Underdogs

I step out the saloon, about a quarter to noon
Might as well have been a quarter to DOOM
Strapped with my six-shooter, next to my six pack
My sawed-off, slung over my right shoulder, hung on my back
Heavy artillery weigh down my belt strap
Ain’t gon' be no killing me without the clack clacking crack
Of the hammer slamming down into action
On the chest of any courageous brave soul
Who wanna come test The West
Select the weapon you want
But don’t mess with the best
We promise we can lay ‘em to rest
Make sure they sleepin’ in a closed casket
With skills that’s, obviously, the most murderous
I paint the bullseye, just show me the target
There’s a vest that can stop this
Ain’t been invented yet
If I got ya in my sights, it’s a fair bet
The back of your shirt’s prob'ly wet
And it ain’t just sweat!

Chorus:
(It’s a gunfight)
Ya life on the line with your rep
(It’s a gunfight)
High noon, fight to the death
(It’s a gunfight)
Don’t bring no knives, no fists
(It’s a gunfight)

MF Doom:

Squatting, proper aim
Laying on the strong beer(?)
Matching pair o' nickel six poppers thrown in our gear
See a pure Iroquois (????)
To feed black bellies seeds in need

.44’s before the black talons, black stallions
Back o' wagon’s rations holding for the cash in
What’s the haps, bust the caps
It’s a rap attack, factor that it could be a trap (????) crack
Catch him at the river bed, nakedly wretched
Blood’ll flow downstream as they shiver, better check it
I’ll be up ahead aways
Hold your fire, stay out the light
Stagecoach wide open, something ain’t right
Shot in the back, felt two hot leds enter me
Enter 12 shells, horse fell
Sent Hell, six enemies
Surrounded by militia, they ‘bout to unmask me
Lastly blew her a kiss and made plan B gasted blasphemy

Chorus:
(It’s a gunfight)
Ya life on the line with your rep
(It’s a gunfight)
High noon, fight to the death
(It’s a gunfight)
Don’t bring no knives, no fists
(It’s a gunfight)