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chief kamachi & the juju mob – black dawn lyrics


‘machi, lost cauze, [syfe law?], charon don
let’s get it on, it’s juju mob motherf-ckers

[verse 1: reef the lost cauze]
yo, imagine if the prince of darkness
fathered a four-headed monster
and sent it to conquer the black market
and after the slaughter the monster grew stronger
broke free from the chains, held in h-ll no longer
lost cauze: a wild dog with a p-ssionate bite
so vividly brutal like ‘the p-ssion of christ’
kamachi sn-tching your mic, charon tear off your f-cking arm
and p-ss it to syfe like we p-ssing a pipe
make smoke slip from your bones just from listening to poems
and when i walk you hear the theme music from ‘the omen’
arabian damien’s maiming men, and when my razor bend
it’ll do more than chafe your skin, dog i play to win
this is the team to beat, my money’s on the mob
the jig is up, your squad is a facade
y’all are nothing special, i’ll f-cking stretch you
you’ll have to wear a mask for the rest of your life like mf doom

[verse 2: state store]
to the black of dawn i’ma send it out in rapping form
i’m from a shabby home where i created the greatest
of a written over ritual paper, i’m with getting money priests
that’ll sell you [leakies?] and free beats, now
please don’t speak, just lose your turn
or you’re gonna lose your soul, i’ll curse your -ss
that’s the crib where you live, i’ll leave it lying in ashes
in front of your eyes your life flashes
the sun’ll rise covered in a ski mask
you’re praying so much you need knee pads
your t–th chatter, but ain’t no coming back from this
this like getting your wrists slit, you can feel this sh-t
bumping your body like blackheads
’til my pockets thicker than fat kids
it’s all for the love of the crafty rapping
meaning i’ma earn my earnings
from issuing out some of the most burning sermons

[verse 3: charon the don]
yo, peep the don, i’m nothing to sleep on so keep on
you the type n-ggas beat and pull the heat on
when we speak you would think we put the heat on
we about to unleash the beast and leave a piece gone
it’s the mob, a family of gods
street calamities, no fantasy, my sanity’s lost
to the fans slashing gravity and tragedy, pause
i still got the ladies handing me their panties and drawers
that’s vanity y’all, no, you can’t manage me dog
every death’s another step up the ladder we fall
the masters of war, civilization, my job’s to spit for the nation
my clique’s so sl1ck we slip through the pavement
and we spit for amazement, so be amazed or be afraid
it’s history in the making, it’s poetry in flame
so talk reckless and feel the glock’ll spit
the new apocalypse, ain’t n0body stopping this

[verse 4: chief kamachi]
feel the spirit of the only black messiah in the room
that slang nickel bags of swag and ?
from the cocaine capsule boom to astral zoom
have street scientific tombs, kingly hieroglyphic tombs
it’s silk moorish pantaloons
i stay spiffy, queens screaming, too mystical for me
the glow from my tut jewelry put that pimp aura on it
i am the fire of a goon in a yoruba story
k-a-m-a-c-h-i, supreme oratory
juju talk, scattered priests right with voodoo talk
my voice is a dark road that very few will walk
and these words is gold and your stereo’s a vault
i hit ’em from on high like an aerial -ssault
d-mn baby, i beat ’em to a beautiful pulp
so bring the flowers and book
and burn a million black candles for my murderous talk