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"Pass The Mic" lyrics by BROOKLYN ZU
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"Pass The Mic"
[feat. Chi-King, Felicia Ray]

[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 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

[Chorus x2: Buddha Monk, Felicia Ray (Chi-King)]
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)

[Shorty Shitstain:]
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

[Chorus x2]

[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 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

[12 O'Clock:]
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

[Chorus x2]

[Chorus x2: Felicia Ray]

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