Black Market

1st Verse:
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 the yolk come runnin out his head
I'm tryin to stack the grips so don't let me hit this dick
cuz if I hit this dick I'm'a' shoot me a bitch
Fuck it, bang bang, 5 minutes later the cops came
I'm 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 I'm play still killas scramblin the niggas brains
If you gotta go we gotta go I like the 6'4
I'm pullin GTA's it ain't yours no more
Then I tell 'em to strip it down and leave nothing but the frame
Then I'm gon' sell my cousin the gold thangs,
cop a burn and turn it over like a flapjack
More money more 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
2nd Verse:
Creepin, move, with swifness in the dark
There 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, and nigga this ain't no daylight
I love it murderin mothafuckas in the night
a doomsta' ready to make his mark, a underground target
Hooked up with black market now peep
Shit gets deeper and deeper, (they) need me
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 ain't talkin '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
Eat clips and trip. If I catch you fuckin with my grip
you find your ass dead in a graveyard
and Im'a' continue on eleva(tor)
3rd Verse (Brotha Lynch Hung):
Well if you see me chewin baby guts locc
would ya choke?
Or vomit when that teflon pierced that baby's throat?
Peep me eatin dead cot. You trip cuz eatin dead pussy clit
I make ya sick, but it's that season so my reason is legit
I'm 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 shit about yo biatch
That nigga thats from the block killin up that cot so nigga..shiat
Baby barbeque ribs and guts and uh
Don't let me get to deep fryin baby nuts, sluts
get ate out like a dank and crooked teeth hurt
I pull that tampax string out and straight put in work
It wouldn't 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
I've been keyed for 20 minutes and feel like killin loadin that nilla, nilla
It's that infant killa, nigga Lynch.
Mr. Doc D double O M
in hella heat,
niggas I'm gone, I need another dose of human meat
I lift the creep, and black market death by the scene
as that nigga nigga that 9 millimeter pokes you in your spleen
Chorus
4th Verse:
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 soul
get deep, think of moms at yo funeral locc, and all yo family, huh
It's kinda crazy you could lose all of these things so quick
and what's worse, nigga shot ya for the fuck of it, yeah!
Never knew I'd be the one to have your life on my hand
(Brotha Lynch: that Ruger fo-fo mag!)
That niggas life won't 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 I'm savin you the pain of old age,
all I'm askin for your mothafuckin grip in exchange
One to the brain in the throat, out the skull
from the big chrome gat, peeled cap release yourself
Now ya niggas know
One more dead mothafucka on the street from the Mr Doc
Locc straight to the brain with St. Ides brew the black market
Dealt murder when they served these foos
Chorus