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Death Of A Salesman
by
People Under the Stairs
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Lyrics
You wack MCs is dead MCs. You wack MCs is dead… Yo, I was chilling, lamping, cooling at the spot When this light-skinned n***a with Tims told me he could rock He told me his name and I think it started with a K That's exactly what happened after this day I put that same letter after his name to end it off So I coughed gave threw a pound and then I was off Went around the corner where the homies was at Told my n***a, Elad, pull went down, he handed me the... Took about five pulls, yo, that sh*t was just right He handed me about five Newports and I was off into the night Stopped at the store and picked up a Big Gulp When I saw this black Jeep pull up, it was my homie from the set He told me heard from evil went down, so I hopped inside the loc So we could head across town Yo yo yo… Hey, Thes What's up, man? What's up? We're bumpin' at Unity tonight, man… I'll just go in there and do this thing, ain't no need to stay… Let's be out Stepped inside the place, stepped quiet as f**k Stepped into a dark corner so fools wouldn't know what's up Thes came over, said he saw him at the bar fronting like he was hard But it was time to pull his card, so I stepped to this n***a Look him dead in his face, was like "You's a disgrace to this race!" Then I… Wack MCs… wack MCs… (etc.) Make me have to call your name out… (scratched and repeated) It was a cold September morning, there was fog in the air A pair of police proceeded ahead of a 21-car black caravan Of cars and vans with headlights, testimony of dead night My flashlight light the right way for me I went early and climbed a tree, so I might see the show as it passed The cars slow as they pass the PD-blocked intersection Then gassed up the hill through the gate on the left And slowed and showed moonlight reflections on the fresh-mown grass Tombstones on tinted glass The special pass sitting on the dashboard of a black Ford In front stopped the cop and he opened the door And out steps a man with flowers inside his grip Squinting for the pig, Linden suit and wingtips Out flew the rest and they rared to go, I hear no sounds Just see lips moving and moonglow, so I and I, camouflaged Slide down the tree, float across the road that's like 30 feet wide Beverly-Hills-style glide past the G-ride See a rock at the end of the block, cop a squat And watch men slide, an all-black box with gold rails Tail-side, adorned with carnations in random configurations Of player pride and herring bone, scales and other paraphernalia Of a lifestyle that reflected but failure The trails of fog leap of the back of the cab, passed it one-by-one Dookie gold made it hard to hold I had to laugh. Oh, what fun when one dies They walked toward the grave, the fog started to rise Check the coffin… "hella tight"… put it on the hoist And lower it deep, deeper into the moist earth Last words of this man… I slipped into the night And heard the fog…"n***a had a hella tight car (?) We're dead n***a… He dead… (?)
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