Chi-King - Pa** the Mic lyrics

[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]