BROOKLYN ZU - Pass The Mic lyrics

rate me

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 ya'll up

Once they up they stayin. (Merdy what up)

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

Aiyo it might just be, A little past your time

I think you better pass the mic

(Cause, 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)

Yo, I'm deadly on my lonesome, but I'm sicker with my click

My Brooklyn Zu niggas be like 'that's that shit'

I roll with 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

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 with 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 with permanent scars

I was, born with nothing, and I still got nothing

So until I do, the next victim might be you

I told ya'll muthafuckas, don't fuck with 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