The Good, The Bad, And The Skinnee - 2 Skinnee J's

It's the Good the bad and the Skinnee 
The sun in the sky let I know it was high noon 
Hit the town center and enter the saloon 
Six shooter by my side but I'm down by five 
And the sign says J Guevara dead or alive 
Who shot the sheriff? I swear it wasn't me 
Case taken by mistaken identity 
Now deputies and mounties hunt my black ass for bounty 
Now I'm jetting to avoid these Boba Fetting fiends that hound me 
There's a rally for an ally with voice loud like town crier 
On a steed name of tumbleweed arrives the Pale Rider 
It's the honkee on the donkey, my compadre Special J 
J Guevara knows the graveyard, but I know the grave 
We're guys in our disguises, with our mustaches phony 
As we exit stage left we go express like a pony 
Then we're loose from the noose and we're back in the saddle 
il' Bruto's in the pack of the riff raff and rabble 

We're lost like Atlantis in this land of the lawless 
Legendary mercenary with an aim that is flawless 
In a mess nonetheless I confess like a sinner 
Special J's got my back while the buzzards got my innards, for dinner 
The cowards cower, the brave brave the elements 
I search the scenery for signs of intelligence 
Is this the fate of the J's, Special and Guevara 
Take our last breath of air up there on the Sierra 
Our hopes are dropping, the temperature is rising 
But look over there, where, there on the horizon 
A lone horseman approaches behold 
With gold from stagecoaches and fortunes fortold 
Now dreams of more clams than found by the seashore 
Have got J and I digging graves like Igor 
But when the world divides and men turn on their sons 
Those with their shovels and those with their guns 

Badges, we don't need no stinking badges 
Where justice comes looser than Swedish massages 
Special J blowing up like a stick of dynamite 
I'm the rootinest tootenist hombre since Samuel Yosemite 
And I up the ante, you cant beat the J vig