Lyrics:

Well I was troddin' through the
wild west
where man they love dem gun
I seen a man hold his gun like
his woman
clean it hen he stroke that
sucker strong
clean it, stroke it, walking in
plain sight
all over town (that's how it go
down)

troddin' thru the wild west
were long nose take him claim
genocide (is) him victory
money (is) him only game
first like sell we for sugar, then
rum
now him push cocaine
wha a shame, this game

troddin' thru the wild west
before the clock struck twelve
didn't seem like heaven,
(*1) I check seh must be hell

(rum, rum, sugar, sugar, bars
of gold)
here in babylon, all sickness to
be found
don't wait to call no healer
(*2) you know die-body
no fear bury ground

(*3) since I be done go for cornah
watah
for Africa I de longah, de longah so
(*1) I know that it must be hell
(*2) a corpse isn't afraid of the
grave, i.e. Things can only get
so bad
(*3) since I went across the
water I miss Africa too much.