Instrumente
Ensemblen
Oper
Komponisten
Performers

Songtexte: Brotha Lynch Hung. Black Market.

(voice)

The year is 1994. Black Market Records, 2001 Records, and Doomsday Productions combine forces to create your favorite click.Make way for the hounds of the underground.

Feel the fury.

hahahahahahaha









i put my hands in my pocket



they jingle cuz they full of change



and sometimes being broke make



your father straight



but i got a better grip on myself



so i avoid being played short like



an elf



bust a side bust her in the head



then watch all of yoke come runnin



out his egg



im tryin to stack the grips that



dont let me hit this dick



cuz if i hit this dick ima shoot



me a bitch



fuck it(inhale,cough), bang bang,



5 minutes later the cops came



im settin up shop for the black



market



so if i aim at your mark ass you a



target



told you that i come, but i came



insane



though im bay still killas



scramblin the niggas brains



if you gotta go we gotta go i like



the 6'4



im pullin GTA's it aint yours no



more



then i tell em to strip it down



and leave nothing but the frame



then im gon' sell my cousin the



gold thangs



cop a burn and turn it over like a



flapjack



mo money mo money for black market







on the black market, yeah x4











creepin, move with swiftness in



the dark



there aint no stoppin once a nigga



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, nigga this aint no



daylife



i love it murderin mothafuckas in the night



and deuced up ready to make his



mark underground target



hooked up with black market



now peep this



shit gets deeper and deeper, the



doomstown grim reaper and P-I-T



platinum, Mr Dr. Lynch Hung




we do yo ass in good just for fun



15 inches in yo ass bitch



take it and love it but i aint talkin bout no dick



14 suns and moons somthin you can assume



that on the 15th marks my day for doom



buck em and fuck em with doomsday productions



eat clips and trip if i catch you fuckin with my grip



you find your ass dead in a graveyard



and ima continue on my way







well if you see me chewin baby guts lowk



would ya choke



i vomit when that teflon pierced that babys throat



peep me eatin dead cock u trip cuz eatin dead pussy clit



i make ya sick but its that season so my reason is legit



im havin fits, i dream of eatin bloody pussy clits since i was 6



i fiend for dead pussy on my dick



i got the skits meanin i dont give a fuck about yo biatch



that nigga thats from the block killin up that cock so nigga..shiat



baby barbeque ribs and guts and uh



dont make me get the deep fryin baby nuts, sluts



get ate out like a dank and crooked teeth hurt



i pulled that tampax string out and straight couldnt work



it wouldnt work without that sicc



so page a nigga quick so i can serve you some of that shit



and have you murderin your bitch violently



ive been key for 20 minutes and feel like killin on that nilla nilla



its that infant killa



aint the bitch mr doc D double O M



in hella heat



niggas im gone, i need another dose of human meat



i lift the creed, and black market death by the scene



as that nigga nigga that 9 millimeter to fucks you in yo sleep







we on the black market yeahh x4











you let yo eyes upon my fo-fo



and notice every curve and my strap



as the tears roll down



flash of life as you fade to black



if that gat wasnt all up in yo face



reminese of yo folks, yo bitch, yo kids, yo faith



replaced, take it down to the south



get deep, think of moms at yo funeral broken, all of yo family



its kinda crazy you could lose all of these things so quick



and whats worse, nigga shot ya for the fuck of it, yeah!



never knew id be the one to have you back on my hand



back with the fo-fo mag!



that niggas life wont last



keep listening while i gotta get ya from yo right to ya throat



dig that nail in ya neck watch ya bitch ass choke



no hope no joke im safe from pain all day



all im askin for your mothafuckin grip in exchange



one to the brain in the throat, out the skull



from the big chrome gat, peeled cat release yourself



now ya niggas know



one more dead mothafucka on the street from the Mr doc



Locc straight to the brain with sicc ideas with black market



death murder when they suck