Netcees - XI WK II: Mr. J (0-1) vs. Eviction (0-1) (EVICTION WINS VIA N/S)

In the old west it was simple times, and it was left at that.
Only thing that mattered, was your legacy, what it said on your epitaph.
There was no such thing as funerals, you had to be careful where you cried at.
There was no final wish for resting places, you where buried where you died at.
You didn’t die by the sword, you died by the bullet, and they built your casket,
Out of reclaimed wood by the barn, most cowboys weren’t built for that shit.
We whipped the flame flower in whatever direction we seen fit.
It was keen to pick the opp that had a family that would suffer the most from greiving.
A scorched earth is what I’m leaving, I can take it with me to that grave, still breathing.
We wasn’t judged by our past, we was celebrated by how long we last.
In the midst of the chaos caused by blast, you was put on the front lines if your up to the task.
If you wasn’t built for war you was put out like trash, you can smell the garbage,
In every neighborhood back then, pussies didn’t want smoke, they just wanted to be artist.
They put brush strokes on paintings that was useless, because our brothers are dying.
That glorified pain, when the mothers are crying, we read books from mother fuckers lying.
How could they tell me about our ways, when they wasn’t there to witness it.
Them cowboys started the war, and before my final breath I’ll finish it.
My abilties were limited but I knew this land cannot be sold, like my cold soul.
The devil found it valuable, more so than this old road, no one knows what was foretold,
If what I sacrified returned tenfold, then its pointless imagining the skeletons these men hold.
Because they died for nothing.