Black Market

Mars Ill

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    [Verse 1: manCHILD]
    The black market, where blue blooded emcees split red seas since it started
    Where beyond gold and platinum is the target
    Rockin it with real skill leaves greenhorns green with envy
    And rappin about your cherry red Benz still seems empty
    Where blue collar rhyme sayers really mean what they be speakin
    And the cat you rhyme behind's not donned by yellow streaks and
    Every week at open mics we paint the clouds with silver lining
    Perfect rhymes can't be achieved, but every moment is defining
    On time to spray your mind with some surrealist imagery
    Plus feed 5000 emcees with a single simile
    I got a metaphor, like just introduced to quadruplets
    Most heads want more, so I expose them like a nudist
    Yo, you're Alicia Silverstone type clueless to the fact
    That we bring El Shaddai to ciphers at points all across the map
    So black, take it to my chest, you know I'll bring it back to you
    The black-market, be white hot, or leave here black and blue.

    [Hook: x2]
    Underground is the sound of rebirth
    So my turf keeps me locked down with the Godsound under earth
    While I'm destined for the sky, Adonai is the target
    Still I can't escape the Black Market

    [Verse 2: Playdough]
    Deep into the black record crack while I'm incognito
    Disguised for surprise dressed down in tuxedo
    With the mushpot, Christ and hip-hop I'm steady jugglin
    And bargainin the jargon in the Church where I'm smugglin my rhymes
    That's the crime so they label me a criminal
    Now people in the steeple gotta keep rap subliminal
    Or unseen and heard not a word to the pews
    They fear the ill tattoos, plus my check one twos
    Nevertheless I press, keeping raps righteous
    They wanna test my effervesce, cuz it's so effortless
    On metronomes, their fleet can't defeat my poem
    I circle the globe to make the whole world my home
    But cancel that, this is only the place I travel at
    So I'm wandering sound for holy ground habitat
    Where the rabbits at? Under the earth working my phono
    You searching for your crew while I'm flying Han Solo

    [Hook]

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    [Verse 3: ManCHILD]
    I call shots like a referee, fighting for your destiny
    Sound the reverie, settle the score like a refugee
    Selected pedigree when I rock so steadily
    And then burn the ideals of the world in effigy

    [Playdough]
    while me and Freddie B. are more underground than they could ever be
    We're reverently riding blue skies we're seeing seldomly
    From pushing envelope with cross hairs and scope
    Locked onto the bullseye, so watch it as I pull my

    [manCHILD]
    Hollow tipped scripts come equipped to spit darts
    I'll take my shot in the dark, it ain't a walk in the park
    Finish to start, these cats are still jacking the art
    But me, I dominate the market that's as black as their heart

    [Playdough]
    Inside the ventricles, I flip it around to make receptacles
    And fill with Mars ILL Harmonic is apostolic
    And intercede, so you no longer bleed the night
    I'm chasing shadows in sound battles, filling markets with light.

    [Hook x2]

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