Artist: Brooklyn Zu f/ Chi-King, Felicia Ray Album: Chamber #9, Verse 32 Song: Pass the Mic Typed By: pneumatic, Cno Evil [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 pussy teriyaki suckers 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 ass haters can't do nothin but frown Six million ways to die dog, I'm killin 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 niggas, Yeah it's killer 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 pass the mic (Cuz, we don't wanna hear that bullshit you spit, Pass the mic son We don't wanna hear that bullshit you spit, Pass the mic son) [Shorty Shitstain] Yo, I'm deadly on my lonesome, but I'm sicker wit my click My Brooklyn Zu niggas be like 'that's that shit' 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 niggas ain't going no where One down, Dirty not around Still those Cuffies gonna hold they ground Nigga please, niggas ain't got nothing on this cheese We doing this for decades, hugging the degrees I be seeing them same niggas trynna sound like me You can't sound like me, my whole style is orthodox Nigga, 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 killing a nigga twice It's the thug life, who want it, I'm nothing nice Snatch a nigga 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 Fuck 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 muthafuckas, don't fuck 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, nigga, that'll flood your street See, it's Brooklyn Zu, plus we Killa Beez Where niggas quick to pull and quick to squeeze [Chorus 2X] [Chorus 2X: Felicia Ray]