[Talking] The year is 1994 Black Market Records, 2001 Records, Doomsday Productions Combined forces to create an un-fade able click Make way for the hounds of the underground Feel the fury, hahahaha [Eklypss] I put my hands in my pockets They jiggle 'cause they full of change, Sometimes bein' broke will make ya fall astray But I got a better grip on myself So I avoid gettin' played short like a elf Bust her side bust her in the head That white ? yoke come runnin' out his neck I'm tryin' to stack a grip so don't let me hit this dank 'Cause if I hit this dank, I'm a shoot me a bitch F*ck it, *puff*, bang bang, Five minutes later, the cops came I'm settin' up shop for the black market So if I aim at your mark-ass you're a target Told you that I'd come but I came insane Born braincell killas, scramblin niggas brains If you gotta go you gotta go I like the six-fo I'm pullin GTA's, it ain't yo's no mo' Then I take it and strip it down and leave nothin but the frame Then I'm gonna sell my cousin the gold thangs Pop a burn and turn it over like a flapjack Mo money mo money for black market [Chorus] X 4 On the black market, yeeeaah [Bad Boy] Creepin move with swiftness in the dark And ain't no stoppin, once a nigga start It ain't nothin new, up under the sun for days and days Under the moon, is where I was born and raised And doomed for life, nigga this ain't no daylight I love it, murderin muthafuckas in the night Deuced up ready to make his mark a underground target Hooked up with black market now peep Shit gets deeper and deeper, meet me The doomstown grim reaper, and PIT Platinum, Mister Doctor Lynch Hung We do your ass in good just for fun Fifteen inches in your ass bitch Take it and love it, but I ain't talking bout no dick 14 suns and moons, somethin you can assume That on the 15th marks my day for doom Buck em and f*ck em with doomsday productions Eclipse a crip if I catch you fuckin with my grip you'll find your ass dead in a graveyard And I'ma continue on my ? [Brotha Lynch] Well if you see me chewin baby guts locc, would ya choke? I vomit when that teflon pierce that babys throat Peep me eatin dead cock Ya trip cus eatin dead pussy clit'll make ya sick But its that season so my reason is legit I'm havin fits, I've dreamed of eatin bloody pussy clit since I was 6 I fiend for dead pussy on my dick, I got the schitz Meanin I don't give a shit about yo biatch That nigga that's from the block killin off that cock So nigga, sheeeit Baby barbeque ribs and guts, and uh don't let me get to deep fryin baby nuts Sluts, get ate out like a ? them crooked teeth hurt I pull that tampax string out and straight put in work It wouldn't work without the sick So page a nigga quick so I can serve you some of that shit And have you murderin your biatch, violently I've been keyed for 20 minutes and feel like killin Loadin that milli-milli its that infant killa Nigga Lynch, Mr. Doc, D-O double M and hella heat Niggas unload, I need another dose of human meat Outlive the creek, and black market death by the scene As that nigga that nigga that nine millimeter punch you in yo spleen [Chorus] X 4 [Mr. Doctor] You lay yo eyes up on my 4-4 And notice every curve in my strap As them tears roll down Flash yo life as ya fade to black If that gat wasn't all up in yo face Reminisce of yo folks, yo bitch, yo kids, yo fate Replace, take it down to the South, get deep Think of mobs at your funeral locc, and all ya family Huh, its kind of crazy you could lose all of these things so quick And what's worse, nigga shot you for the f*ck of it, yeah Never know I'd be the one to have your life in my hand [Brotha Lynch: That Ruger 4-4 Mac] That niggas life won't last Keep listenin while I guide right down into your throat Dig that barrel in your neck, watch your bitch-ass choke No hope, no joke, I'm savin you the pain of old age All I ask for is yo muthafuckin grip in exchange One to the brain, in the throat out the skull From the big chrome gat, peeled cap relation, so Now ya niggas know, one mo dead muthafucka on the street Fo the Mista Doc, locc Straight to the brain with St. Ides brew The black market dealt murder when they serve them foo's [Chorus] X 4
Written by: STEPHAN BODZIN
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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