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Текст песни Black Market Militia - Paintbrush

Black Market Militia - Paintbrush слова песни

[Intro: Killah Priest]Black Market, Priest[Chorus 2X: Killah Priest]We paint the pictures without the paintbrushMarket hip hop, but think, gangsta[Killah Priest]Photography is like a movie filmAstrology is like I move through realmsProdigy melodically, I produce a gemLike cole, I dig deep into your eternal soulI speak a journal, like your fortune toldYa`ll some purple, and light ya weed and blow a circleI right the dead street scrolls, it`s rare like the Devil`s love lettersLet this essence of this thug, bless yaDream of Black Israel, the fetus of a baby JesusSeed of Emmanuel, see a man, in his cell, a breatherI need one, my weed`s done, throw away the roachGet close, with the man, with the most witchaI draw pictures without paint, with the inkWhen I think, the sun and moon, stars, linkIt`s like sixteen bars, get in sinkI`m like the author Alex HalleyRidin` the, last note, before Malcolm was buriedI`m the artist, and what I do with markersI color in words, like I`m two years oldAll I need is a fubius code[Tragedy Khadafi]I say yes yes ya`ll, they try to handcuff the GodArmani specs with night vision, I see ya`llDeep as the mind of Solomon, the metropolitanModel women, like Cleopatra, they try to swallow inMy pilgrimage, straight to the hood, the children follow `emThug gentlemen, rockin` Timberlands, suade cinnamonThe radio don`t play our shit, we too militantSoul controller, the ayatollah when I roll upNine eleven shit, that I spit, the hood blow up[Hell Razah]Aiyo hold up, angels cry, the ghetto for dead soulsWe left on this globe, tryin` to crawl out the bottomless holeLive it out, before the book of life closeI was told from the first few sentences, written in GenesisSeven six, God gave me a gift, I existFrom a family, of kings and queens, and blacksmithsWe build like Harold O`Biff, add up the hypeLiftin` the whiff, and get while we equal infiniteIt`s Black Market militant, Hebrew immigrantsThey check the pyramid, to see for my finger printsFrom New York to Palastine, if you could travel in timeYou realize, who was God`s bloodlineWhy the dead bury the dead, the blind leadin` the blindThe makers of the fathers and nines, fathers and crimesThat climb on the mountain of Sear, evil drink from the fountain of fearGot men drowin` in tears, countin` on his birthday yearsWe break bread at a table, with thirteen chairs, and long beards

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