doomsday productions – black market lyrics
[talking]
the year is 1994
black market records, 2001 records, and doomsday productions
combined forces to create an unfadable click
make way for the hounds of the underground
feel the fury, hahhaahaha
[pit]
i put my hands in my pockets
they jiggle cus they fulla change,
sometimes bein broke’ll 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
cus if i hit this dank, i’m a shoot me a b-tch
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–ss youre a target
told you that i’d come but i came insane
born braincell killas, scramblin n-gg-s brains
if you gotta go you gotta go i like the six-fo
i’m pullin gta’s, it aint 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 x4]
on the black market, yeeeaah
[eklypss]
creepin move with swiftness in the dark
and aint no stoppin, once a n-gg- start
it aint nothin new, up under the sun for days and days
under the moon, is where i was born and raised
and doomed for life, n-gg- this aint no daylight
i love it, murderin m-th-f-ckas in the night
a doomsta ready to make his mark an underground target
hooked up with black market now peep
sh-t gets deeper and deeper, meet me
the doomstown grim reaper, and pit
platinum, mister doctor lynch hung
we do your -ss in good just for fun
fifteen inches in your -ss b-tch
take it and love it, but i aint talking bout no d-ck
14 suns and moons, somethin you can -ssume
that on the 15th marks my day for doom
buck em and f-ck em with doomsday productions
eklypss’ll trip if i catch you f-ckin with my grip
youll find your -ss dead in a graveyard
and i’ma continue on my?
[brotha lynch hung]
well if you see me chewin baby guts locc, would ya choke
or vomit when that teflon pierce that baby’s throat?
peep me eatin dead cott
ya trip cause eatin dead p-ssy cl-t, i’ll make ya sick
but its that season so my reason is legit
i’m havin fits, i’ve dreamed of eatin bl–dy p-ssy cl-t since i was 6
i fiend for dead p-ssy on my d-ck, i got the schitz
meanin i dont give a sh-t about yo b–tch
that n-gg- that’s from the block killin off that cott
so n-gg-, sheeeit; baby barbeque ribs and guts, and uh
don’t let me get to deep fryin baby nuts
sl-ts, get ate out like a? them crooked teeth hurt
i pull that tampax string out and straight put in work
it wouldnt work without the sick
so page a n-gg- quick so i can serve you some of that sh-t
and have you murderin your b–tch, violently
i’ve been keyed for 20 minutes and feel like killin
loadin that milli-milli its that infant killa
n-gg- lynch, mr. doc, d-o double m and h-lla heat
n-gg-s unload, i need another dose of human meat
i live to creep, and black market death by the scene
as that n-gg- that n-gg- that nine millimeter punch you in yo spleen
[chorus x4]
[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 wasnt all up in yo face
reminisce of yo folks, yo b-tch, yo kids, yo fate
replace, take it down to the soul, get deep
think of moms at your funeral locc, and all ya family
huh, its kind of crazy you could lose all of these things so quick
and whats worse, n-gg- 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 n-gg-s life wont last
keep listenin while i guide right down into your throat
dig that barrel in your neck, watch your b-tch–ss choke
no hope, no joke, im savin you the pain of old age
all i ask for is yo m-th-f-ckin grip in exchange
one to the brain, in the throat out the skull
from the big chrome gat, peeled cap, release your soul
now ya n-gg-s know, one mo dead m-th-f-cka 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 x4]
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