[Intro: Killah Priest]
Yeah, knawhatimean, Killah Priest
I changed my name, man, it's Leo Angel now
Knawhatimean? Yo, this is Black Market
Knawhatimean? Trag', Will Cooper, Yankee, knowhatimean, uh
[Killah Priest]
First and foremost, we let our jaws toast, and sing bravo
Drink the red wine, the sands of time, stampeded by a million broncos
Through the Congo, beneath the cosmos, Priest the 5th apostle
I'm like Picasso, I paint a hot flow
The canvas is your mind when you visualize, you can see it like an art show
It's warm like the bullet goin' through the Pope shirt
Sinkin' in the lungs of the quiet Cardinal
I'm like Leonardo Da Vinci, my pen squeeze out sculptures
High, like a ski Alp in Greece with my feet stretched out on a Sheik's sofa
Turn that beat loud, I'm bout to freestyle, soldiers
My rhyme show the depths, like a rich photographer in Yugoslavia
To Romania, fills whole stadiums, to them Hungarians, that's gun carryin'
To Bulgaria, to the Balkan Peninsula, the flow turn vocals into pictures
The beauty is like the snow fallin' in the winter
Rhymes, are like icons of heroin addict's
With fiends, with their bare arms, scratchin'
They palms practice, the plan that the White Man crafted
Turn our people backwards, in black hoods to Spanish Harlem
The plan is Gotham, and I'm Batman, amongst these crack lands
I hold revolvers, listen to the soul of Marvin
To bring back the promise, it's Black Market
Yeah, knawhatimean, Killah Priest
I changed my name, man, it's Leo Angel now
Knawhatimean? Yo, this is Black Market
Knawhatimean? Trag', Will Cooper, Yankee, knowhatimean, uh
[Killah Priest]
First and foremost, we let our jaws toast, and sing bravo
Drink the red wine, the sands of time, stampeded by a million broncos
Through the Congo, beneath the cosmos, Priest the 5th apostle
I'm like Picasso, I paint a hot flow
The canvas is your mind when you visualize, you can see it like an art show
It's warm like the bullet goin' through the Pope shirt
Sinkin' in the lungs of the quiet Cardinal
I'm like Leonardo Da Vinci, my pen squeeze out sculptures
High, like a ski Alp in Greece with my feet stretched out on a Sheik's sofa
Turn that beat loud, I'm bout to freestyle, soldiers
My rhyme show the depths, like a rich photographer in Yugoslavia
To Romania, fills whole stadiums, to them Hungarians, that's gun carryin'
To Bulgaria, to the Balkan Peninsula, the flow turn vocals into pictures
The beauty is like the snow fallin' in the winter
Rhymes, are like icons of heroin addict's
With fiends, with their bare arms, scratchin'
They palms practice, the plan that the White Man crafted
Turn our people backwards, in black hoods to Spanish Harlem
The plan is Gotham, and I'm Batman, amongst these crack lands
I hold revolvers, listen to the soul of Marvin
To bring back the promise, it's Black Market
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