| I’m Dan Bull
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| And according to my watch
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| It’s eleven fifty-nine
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| My watch is one minute slow
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| Hey, hello stranger
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| You’re alone, ain’t ya?
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| You’re a lone ranger
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| What a tone changer
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| No neighbours so far away from your home range
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| Roamin' open plains so dangerous
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| You’re playing Russian roulette
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| With a bullet in an unknown chamber
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| So make use of the brain God gave ya or it’ll be blown away
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| Payback
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| McCree’s peacekeeper seeks any head honcho
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| Put a bullet through their head like a head through a poncho
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| It’s high noon, better ride soon
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| There’s no time to rest
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| Head to the horizon and roll through the wild, wild west
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| Distinguished by his particular apparel
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| In which he dispatches batches of fishes in barrels
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| Back in the saddle and addled with bourbon
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| Trouble is certain
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| Disturbing your suburban world
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| The bubble is bursting, a tug of the curtains
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| And the whole thing comes tumbling back down to earth
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| Quick have a sip of the whiskey because I’m on my third cup
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| And feeling perked up
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| Strode up to the bar, smoking a cigar
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| B-A-M-F aren’t notes on a guitar
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| Focused deadeye
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| Spaghetti Western Jedi with the same robotic arm
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| McCree’s at the top, the cream of the crop
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| You’re dreaming if you believe he’s gonna stop
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| Breeze in and clean up, do we even need Reaper?
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| Aiming the heater, keen as a heatseeker
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| Keeping the peace with the piece, the peacekeeper
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| The key piece of the team, defeat fleets of people
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| Seeking to beat elite leaders
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| Reckon they’ll achieve it? |
| Me neither
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| Frequently repeating the scene, twenty-four seven
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| You’re seeing seasons of Kiefer
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| Et tu, Brutus? |
| Bleeding Caesar?
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| Yeah, read 'em and weep like a John Green feature
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| Read 'em and weep like a John Green feature novel
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| No other rapper would say that!
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| McCree’s peacekeeper seeks any head honcho
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| Put a bullet through their head like a head through a poncho
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| It’s high noon, better ride soon
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| There’s no time to rest
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| Head to the horizon and roll through the wild, wild west
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| Hammer fanner, fan the hammer at a rapid rate
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| You’re trying to bat away the blasts
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| Playing patacake against Cassius Clay
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| Jabbing fast as the camera’s capture rate
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| Battered by the hands of fate
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| Smacking off your crown like acid rain
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| That accurate aim could blast away
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| The fastest sailing hand grenade
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| Coming at your face, congratulations, kappa
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| I’ll pass on the clammy handshake
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| You’re chances of flanking and ganking the man
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| Are flat as a manta ray pancake
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| Beating McCree’s like meeting Anne Hathaway on Chaturbate
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| It ain’t gonna happen, mate
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| Your happy days went thataway
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| Snatched away, but now your face is wrapped in gaffa tape
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| So pray they get that ransom paid
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| Like the handsome man from Santa Fe’s
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| A candidate for financial aid
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| Who laid a trap with a vast array
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| Of fantastic ways to make you pass away
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| Then wait 'til after the wake to deface the place your ashes lay
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| McCree’s peacekeeper seeks any head honcho
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| Put a bullet through their head like a head through a poncho
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| It’s high noon, better ride soon
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| There’s no time to rest
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| Head to the horizon and roll through the wild, wild west
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| Well… it’s high noon somewhere in the world |