The Mexican (feat. Tom Morello & K.I.D.)

He's called Fernandez Living on a gun Shot real, conch for practice Map to the fortune, hidden up under the mattress A led belt, attached ciz and holsters Waking area, two blaze and toaster Hit the stage, hopes on stallions Looking for federal reserves, notes gold medallions Heavily true by the local governor Southerner, sought after bought a whole battalion Fill out a snake within a hand shake Get the drop on them then he explained the mistake The techman's gold we show While the flakes rate to shoot Wild horses drink from the lake Deputy say by the badge and the blazo Who wanted shot from one to have the aim of a laser Trained by a neighbor, a gambler Who will stack a deck, once mars carved with a razor He's called Fernandez Living on a gun Dreams of Santa Anna Fighting the sun Drums so loud from outside Makes it hard to dream A rain is falling hard and fast Makes it all seem real Morning, come morning A chico's gotta have his share Morning, sad morning Said he must be there It used to move weight But then it became a grow up Constrictor boa, most center lower Who operated along the mind of his own For mostly silver and other shining stones A bandit political rebel, who move with the group Because the levels flashing heavy metals Clash with the lords, tricker than tis reactions Hard labor, gave him ocapu contractions Lawmen turned to outlaw Gunfighter, cattle rustlers, hustlers, rough riders Used his connections everything to versual Cost on social economic circles Senorita pining Chico come on home Santa Anna's losing You'll be first to go Sam Houston's laughing Davy Crockett too When Anna takes the Alamo The first to go is you Morning, come morning A chico's gotta have his share Morning, sad morning Heaven will be there Morning, sad morning What a laugh, had a laugh Ha ha ha ha ha