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black market militia - gemstars (dj absolute remix) lyrics

[intro: william cooper (k!llah priest)]
(yea p-ss that) -sniffin’ weed-
word up, word up, word up, haha!
that sh-t feel good right? ‘knaw’mean? (yea)
gemstar the regime straight up!
black market the revolution (yea)
both sides of the coin (exoticness)
you understand what we talkin’ ’bout? (uh huh)
we givin’ y’all fair warnin’

[tragedy khadafi]
hot lead bust through iron pipes
blood drip from the corner of a young thug’s mouth
the hood life, is torn flesh
and his last bit of breath, pulses over dead flesh
homicide hover like vultures
married the game, now the earth’s dirty and indulges
should of seen him though
n-ggas though his heart was the coldest
left two seeds, little son rod was the oldest
two baby mothers, blowin’ guns duckin’ under covers
and his motto was, no one in this whole world love us
from the womb to the tomb, presume the youth’s scars
soul on ice, tears of a k!ller behind bars
when you curse god, streets is a gangsta’s graveyard
my advice, in the meantime to you is play hard
it’s real, when you deal with the cards you dealt
it’s not real, when your seeds feel the pain you felt
break the curse disciple n-gga paved the way
it ain’t gangsta when your seeds go lay in the same grave
you die in the same hood, bleed on the same corner
the game’s over, all of my n-ggas have fair warnin’
yea fair warnin’, symbolize life

[k!llah priest]
my rhymes a guideline for political thugs and o.g.’s
we blow trees in front of authorities not givin’ a f-ck
revolvers will squeeze regardless to the warrants you read
trauma we bleed, before they put our wrists in them cuffs
i sit in the cut like i’m ’62, an ex-panther
narrator, screen writer for n-ggas in handcuffs
gangstas are freedom fighters doin’ life in the slammers
where the strangers take advantage when they tie our bandanas
and i thank you, wit the knife ’til we collide wit ’em hammers
phantoms they talk to me seldom
cats yell from they gut they sh-lls come and their skeletons struck
how i survive that .4 – .5, well, i tell ’em it’s luck
felons erupt at chow time, shots heard from a loud .9
fitted turbans we feast and beneath her loud signs
i don’t care if your crip or you blood
when cops come, get rid of them drugs
for revolution grab that mask, pistol, and glove
this is the love, black oils richer than blood
i’m sick of the grudge, between vice lords and g.d.’s
latin kings and mieta’s, it’s that real sh-t, that hood lecture

[william cooper]
your future’s outlined in chalk, when you tangle with dope
and few know what they riskin’ ’til eventually choke
i put them flames to the smoke your body leaks ’til y’all soap
black market’s the vault, now we that uncooked c0ke
that smuggled in on boats, dippin’ dea coats
poppin’ up like toast, so don’t play me too close
the fbi and the mob be like the bloods and the crips
seems like the root of all evil leads to government chips
it’s better to slip with the foot, then slip with the tongue
flash both sides of the coin, then the ying and yang forms
keep it straight, black and white, wit no gray in my zone
stand on top of my word, what i gave is my soul
so who do i owe? dug myself up out of a hole
and while y’all fightin’ for gold, i fight the nwo
since twelve years old, i’d known where to get a burner
because the breath of the devil, have you huggin’ the corner
word up!

[hook: k!llah priest] -2x-
and in the hood, we spit ‘gemstars’
givin’ you fair warnings, for life lectures
puttin’ holes in your texture
only two ways to go – parole or the stretcher
we’d rather be on our thrones, holdin’ our scepters

- black market militia lyrics

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