[Red 1]   Yo yo   We rude bwoys Van-city outlaws   Yo, the Red reaper, bust back your street sweeper   Call Mr. Martin and the preacher   To the saloon, the showdown high noon   Men dressed all black, yo pon cock platoon   Outlaws, shedding blood by the liter   Saddle up, ride into the sun, done defeat ya   Ride out and scout a safe hideout   With a bounty on my head, that's the word of the moth   Misfit and Red, wanted alive or dead   But Billy bad on the draw, cowboy ninja dread   Retreat to the bush where the Indians live   To survive off the land, recuperating   Yo, walk the warpath like a brave Mohican   Then scalpel the tongue chief rocker speaking   Young gun, bust and murder the sound boy   Anything in my way, no choice but to destroy      CHORUS   "Hold my ground like it's high noon"