Buddha Monk - Brooklyn Chronicles lyrics

[Intro: Casine Kelly (Shake-A-Vel)] Yeah, Brooklyn Chronicles Buddha Monk is that n***a, for real (five families) O.P.N. (exclusive) O Press Nation (Shake-A-Vel) O Press was the nation, On Point is the n***a This sh** is so serious right now, BK uncensored... One time, yeah... [Hook 4X: Shake-A-Vel] It's my world, my life, my hood, my n***as My dough, my flow, my dro [Shake-A-Vel] Like a fifth, leave 'em lying on a park bench, leaking Told ya'll it's our season Find you bleeding heavily, til you stop breathing On the come through, recognize what the guns do Catch you in the projects, duke, flipping on the humble Send hits, all my dogs, stack chips Get lifted off weed, before I bang out Amateur n***as can never hang out, when I pull a thang out How dare these little ba*tards Spit acid on wax til it becomes cla**ic My Zu Clan is like a mafia, use spatulas Chop 'em off, sh** on top of ya [Chorus 2X: Shake-A-Vel] Brooklyn, Brooklyn, is where I'm from Fear no one, since a youth, bust my gun Gats clap, rapidly, you know how us ba*tards be Red hot, seven nine, chasing after me [Casine Kelly] It's Brooklyn all day, the livest borough, we thorough And they rock, corrupt the streets, d** all pile up to murder The boy mouth talk greasy like motor oil, twist a JR Shake, red hot n***as, it's hard boiled O Press, by the streets combat, I'm reppin' to eat By any means, when we roll, cold k**as, you coward Just lose focus, bang heat focus Enemies left in the powers of beholders Just cut open, n***a, ya life ghosted Got spotted by hitmen from Nostrand Slam the scope, it's murder, muthaf**a, choke f** this rapping sh**, I'm turning out the bit Hagada, hagada, hagada, wrap my guns with it [Chorus 2X] [Shake-A-Vel] Shake-A-Vel, the name is monumental on Brooklyn streets Who known to let the llama spit, they strapped with heat Like me and my conglomerate, you counterfeit When the drama's lit, I put the mack to your mama sh** I come with the man power, wet your block up, we given 'em lead showers Still fronting, rocking a vest, when I'm head hunting Won't stop dumping, til ya casket closed ba*tards froze, mercenary snatch your soul My strikes so vital, it twisted your whole hood I'm taking the title, cats wishing that they could Be legendary, respected by cold k**as and crooks, when Walking the mean streets of Brooklyn [Chorus 2X]