[Intro: Chi-King]
Devious on the track...
Chi-King exclusive, What up
This-This one right here is just to wake the streets up
(Yo Twelve what up) We Gonna wake yall up
Once they up they stayin. (Merdy what up)
[Chi-King]
Yo, Said this the shut down, I comin live outta buck town
I rock hard like the ground when I get down
Big up to my Zu blood kin, They hold the streets now
We bringin beef like a big brown cow
I said Kung Pow p**y teriyaki s**ers bow down
Chi is the king yo, I'm holdin the crown
Get you high up from the standin, Hold the weight by the pound
Said laughin a** haters can't do nothin but frown
Six million ways to die dog, I'm k**in the sound
This is worldwide fans, Hustle hard for my seed
Co-D's in this hip hop beast, This what the streets made me be
But now I'm glad with the pain
Cause even with my eyes wide shut I see yo
Now let me take you to a higher degree
Feel the force that's the meanin of Chi, I'm kinda feelin like E
I'm stingin n***as, Yeah it's k**er to bee, Come on
[Chorus 2X: Buddha Monk, Felicia Ray (Chi-King)]
Aiyo it might just be, A little past your time
I think you better pa** the mic
(Cuz, we don't wanna hear that bullsh** you spit, Pa** the mic son
We don't wanna hear that bullsh** you spit, Pa** the mic son)
[Shorty sh**stain]
Yo, I'm deadly on my lonesome, but I'm sicker wit my click
My Brooklyn Zu n***as be like 'that's that sh**'
I roll wit a pack of Indians that ain't dead yet
Supper time, supper time, gotta get the paper set
Frankly we in season, and this is our year
My Brooklyn Zu n***as ain't going no where
One down, Dirty not around
Still those Cuffies gonna hold they ground
n***a please, n***as ain't got nothing on this cheese
We doing this for decades, hugging the degrees
I be seeing them same n***as trynna sound like me
You can't sound like me, my whole style is orthodox
n***a, we run the block
You can hear it from block to block
[Chorus 2X]
[Buddha Monk]
In the heat of the night, I grab mics and bust guns right
Take a life, never think about k**ing a n***a twice
It's the thug life, who want it, I'm nothing nice
Snatch a n***a right, hit him in his cap wit my twin pipes
It's all out war, by G-O-D, down
For seven scores, waiting for whatever cause
f** it, two tears then you duck quick
My repertoire, take the money leave you wit permanent scars
I was, born with nothing, and I still got nothing
So until I do, the next victim might be you
[12 O'Clock]
I told ya'll muthaf**as, don't f** wit me
Leave you six fet deep, in a permanent sleep
See this big ol' gun, put a hole through your teeth
And put an eye on your throat, so ya neck can see
I'm the great grandson of an Indian chief
Do a rain dance, n***a, that'll flood your street
See, it's Brooklyn Zu, plus we k**a Beez
Where n***as quick to pull and quick to squeeze
[Chorus 2X]
[Chorus 2X: Felicia Ray]