Black Market Lyrics - Black Market - Weather Report

The year is 1994 

Black Market Records, 2001 Records, Doomsday Productions 

Combined forces to create an unfadable click 

Make way for the hounds of the underground 

Feel the fury, ha ha ha ha ha 

I put my hands in my pockets 

They jiggle 'cause 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 

'Cause if I hit this dank, I'ma shoot me a bitch 

Fuck 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] 

On the black market, yeah 

On the black market, yeah 

On the black market, yeah 

On the black market, yeah 

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 fuck 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 ? 

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 'cause 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] 

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 fuck of it, yeah 

Never know I'd be the one to have your life in my hand 

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]