High Plains Anthem

I walked in a saloon at high noon, the moonshine sipper
Spit a new rhyme till its asta la vista
The king balloon twister, smash your transistor
'Its the High Plains Drifter', that had to resist the
Sickness of the city life, I sat by the river
A packet of Rizzler and a flask full of liquor
Made the locals ask: 'whos the masked figure?'
Fill a page with the pain it seems you cant picture
The last heavy hitter, so many consider me
To be very bitter, switching up my delivery
Stitching up my injuries, and flipping imagery
Mixing toxins till Im lost in the synergy
Drown in my misery, a man of mystery
I stand in the blistering heat as the epitome
Of the anti-hero, tipping my Stetson
Space cowboy, I drink whiskey with George Jetson
Two thousand and one, the space western
Quick on the draw, bring a war to your section
Blood Sport veteran, contraband cargo
The known desperado rolled into ?
[Scratches]
[Verse 2:]
I ride with lost peasants, hot stepping across deserts
Letting the dust settle for sheep who watch shepherds
Yeah I rock sessions, with unorthodox methods
The messenger, ready for death when God beckons
On frontlines worldwide kids have got weapons
And grey skies hide sunshine from the heavens
Im threatened, by the seven sins of my species
I dont need TV, I read tea leaves
Smoke the peace pipe, in the chiefs tepee
I speak freely, the 3D graffiti writer
Is kinda like the new easy rider
More bad apples in the cruel and cheap cidar
I breath fire, the propane flamethrower
Man the fort for this hostile takeover
I play poker-faced, hold a ace
Tucked up my sleeve, leave your mouth with a sour taste
Thats just how I play the game nowadays
Apologies to the crowd, Im a hour late
[Scratches]
[Verse 3:]
Battling me? Thatd be an embarrassing mistake
Like promoters who dont get the 'H' in the right place
My mic stays in close range, I travel the low plains
But drift on a high like *******
Exchange words with the man with no name
Inspectors, throwing up letters on the ghost train
I rotate, like old brakes on chrome plates
Hunched up, punching keys till my bones ache
I blow fakes outta the water, chucking harpoons
You cant move, running on the spot like a cartoon
Leaving a trail of destruction when I pass through
The drunk fool, fighting off demons with a barstool
Screaming 'Ja Rule', my instincts are carnal
The dirty rascal, or the king of the castle?
Im partial to both titles, the soldiers quote in the Bible
Holding my rifles to false idols
I love the crackle on the old vinyl, I rock break loops
And make moves from my HQ
I stay true to the ancient ways
The herbalist curb-surfer riding paper waves