Back to the previous page

Artist: Black Market Militia
Album:  Black Market Militia
Song:   Gem Star's
Typed by:

[Intro: Killah Priest (Tragedy Khadafi)]
Yeah, pass that (word up, word up
Word up, haha, that shit feel good right?
Knowhatimean?) Yeah (Gem Star the Regime, straight up
Black Market the revolution) Yeah (Both sides of the coins)
Inside of this (You understand what we talkin' bout?) Uh-huh
(We giving y'all fair warning)

[Tragedy Khadafi]
Hot lead bust through iron pipes
Blood drips from the corner of young thug's mouth, the hood life
His torn flesh, and his last bit of breath
Pulses, over death fless, homicide hover like vultures
Married the game, now the Earth's dirty and dulgis
Should of seen him though, niggaz though his heart was the coldest
Left two seeds, little son Rod was the oldest
Two baby mothers, blowing guns, duckin' under covers
And his motto was, no one in this whole world love us
From the womb to the tomb, presumed the youth's scars
Soul on ice, tears of a killer, behind bars
When you curse God, streets is a gangsta's graveyard
My advice, in the meantime, to you, is play hard
It's real, when you deal with the cards you dealt
It's not real, when your seeds feel the pain you felt
Break the curse, disciple, nigga, pave the way
It ain't gangsta, when your seeds go lay in the same grave
Then die in the same hood, bleed on the same corner
The game's over, all of my niggaz, have fair warning
Fair warning... lie's life

[Killah Priest]
My rhymes a guideline, for political thugs and O.G.'s
Who blows trees in front of authorities, like giving a fuck
Revolvers will squeeze, regardless to the warrants you read
Trauma we bleed, before they put our wrists in them cuffs
I sit in the cut, like I'm sixty two, and next Panther
Narrator, screen writer for niggaz in handcuffs
Gangstas are freedom fighters doing life in the slammers
Where the strangers take advantage, when they tie bananas
And I thank you, what the knife til we collide with them hammers
Phantoms, they talk before we sell them
Cats yell from they gut, the shells come and their skeleton struck
How I survive that four/five, well I tell 'em it's luck
Fellas erupt, at chow time, shots heard from a loud nine
Fitted turbans, we feast and beneath her loud signs
I don't care, we cripple you blood
When cops come, get rid of them drugs
For revolution, grab that mask, pistol and glove
This is the love, black oils richer than blood
I'm sick of the grudge, between vice laws and G.D.'s
Latin Kings and Mieta's, it's that real shit, that hood lecture

[William Cooper]
Your future's outlined in chalk, when you tangle with dope
If you know what they risking, they eventually choke
I put the flames to the smoke, your body leaks til y'all soap
Black Market's the vote, now we that uncooked coke
That smuggled in on boats, dippin' DEA coats
Poppin' up like toast, so don't play me too close
The FBI and the Mob be like the Bloods and the Crips
Seems like the root of all evil, leads to government chips
It's better to slip with the foot, then slip with the tongue
Flash both sides of the coin, then the Yin and Yang forms
Keep it straight, black and white, with no gray in my zone
Stand on top of my word, what I gave is my soul
So who do I owe? Dug myself up out of a hole
And while y'all fightin' for gold, I'm fight the NWO
Since twelve years old, I'se nowhere to get a burner
Because the breath of the devil, have you huggin' the corner

[Chorus 2X: Killah Priest]
And in the hood, we spit gem star's
Givin' you fair warnings, for life lectures
Puttin holes in your tecture
Only two ways to go, parole or the stretcher
We'd rather be on our thrones, holdin' our chesters