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  • Текст песни The Black Market Militia - Paintbrush

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    На этой странице находится текст песни The Black Market Militia - Paintbrush, а также перевод песни и видео или клип.
    [Chorus 2X: Killah Priest]
    We paint the pictures without the paintbrush
    Market hip hop, but think, gangsta

    [Killah Priest]
    Photography is like a movie film
    Astrology is like I move through realms
    Prodigy melodically, I produce a gem
    Like cole, I dig deep into your eternal soul
    I speak a journal, like your fortune told
    Ya'll some purple, and light ya weed and blow a circle
    I right the dead street scrolls, it's rare like the Devil's love letters
    Let this essence of this thug, bless ya
    Dream of Black Israel, the fetus of a baby Jesus
    Seed of Emmanuel, see a man, in his cell, a breather
    I need one, my weed's done, throw away the roach
    Get close, with the man, with the most witcha
    I draw pictures without paint, with the ink
    When I think, the sun and moon, stars, link
    It's like sixteen bars, get in sink
    I'm like the author Alex Halley
    Ridin' the, last note, before Malcolm was buried
    I'm the artist, and what I do with markers
    I color in words, like I'm two years old
    All I need is a fubius code

    [Tragedy Khadafi]
    I say yes yes ya'll, they try to handcuff the God
    Armani specs with night vision, I see ya'll
    Deep as the mind of Solomon, the metropolitan
    Model women, like Cleopatra, they try to swallow in
    My pilgrimage, straight to the hood, the children follow 'em
    Thug gentlemen, rockin' Timberlands, suade cinnamon
    The radio don't play our shit, we too militant
    Soul controller, the ayatollah when I roll up
    Nine eleven shit, that I spit, the hood blow up

    [Hell Razah]
    Aiyo hold up, angels cry, the ghetto for dead souls
    We left on this globe, tryin' to crawl out the bottomless hole
    Live it out, before the book of life close
    I was told from the first few sentences, written in Genesis
    Seven six, God gave me a gift, I exist
    From a family, of kings and queens, and blacksmiths
    We build like Harold O'Biff, add up the hype
    Liftin' the whiff, and get while we equal infinite
    It's Black Market militant, Hebrew immigrants
    They check the pyramid, to see for my finger prints
    From New York to Palastine, if you could travel in time
    You realize, who was God's bloodline
    Why the dead bury the dead, the blind leadin' the blind
    The makers of the fathers and nines, fathers and crimes
    That climb on the mountain of Sear, evil drink from the fountain of fear
    Got men drowin' in tears, countin' on his birthday years
    We break bread at a table, with thirteen chairs, and long beards

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