Artist: Black Market Militia
Album:  n/a
Song:   The Touch
Typed by: DaSun Akbar

(Intro) Priest (Cooper)
Gangsta, (Oh), yeah, yeah (Market)
For the hood, (Black Market, this is the Black Market)

(Chorus) Priest X2
Feel our touch; sit like an Egyptian Tut
Feel our touch; you loud mouth's y'all talk too much
Feel our touch; webs from the mummy's hands
Feel our touch; the hood get that money man

[William Cooper]
William Cooper maneuvers, squeezing the six shooter
My market came from the train but like Bermuda
Load down the prehistoric, I've seen the future
Speak like hood Christ before I wave the ruger
My enemies save the night and praise your rulers
A suit forms then splits moving fluid as water
Never bet on stability 'cause life's a torture
Your whole world could change in just a flip of a quarter

[Killah Priest]
They got the law in my presence, I'm drawing my weapon
The Lord is my Sheppard, I shall not want, shell's in my pump
Police yell, they fell, they're dump
Out of breath in my stairwell, exhaled, I'm slumped
Pending, nah I ain't going to jail, I've been there once
I reload, drop the SK or grab the eagle
Relapse on how the CIA did my peoples
Take 'em to war like Haile Selassie
Yo al-Gaddafi, or raise the Prince
While I bury their bodies
Forever we're Iraqi's we take the oath
To blood loss weak as my pulse
'Til my heart stops and I meet with my ghost
I reach from my toast, when I feel the reaper is close
Saw my own flesh struggle as he leak from his throat

Talk to me man, see its Black Market

(Chorus) Priest X2

[Killah Priest]
I put a curse on Bush like the voodoo lady
Who left girls in the hood with brand new babies
On welfare and projects with dirty stairwells
That's pitch black
We're going too far to ever switch back

[Tragedy Khadafi]
Yeah, yo, yo, yo, yo
I'm walking on blocks of five carat ice
Thug paradise, black Christ wrapped in turban
Swerving, my enemy's learning
Slugs penetrate, the bullet's burning
Spit on the grave of Hoover, Marcus Garvey, maneuver
Ayatollah, golden robes holding a ruger
With seven shooters
Me and heroin born in the same womb
Millennium Tut, I'ma die laying in the same tomb
Nuclear rhymes spit it at the nation while the government suffers
And my touch is like the haze and dutches, hit the street
Ready for war with my seasoned and their mothers
Black Market we're like the Prophets of the Last Supper
Respect the movement, we're coming soon, the whole world discover

(Chorus) Priest