Artist: Buddha Monk f/ Casine Kelly, Shake-A-Vel Album: Zu-Chronicles, Vol. 2: Like Father Like Son Song: Brooklyn Chronicles Typed by: Cno Evil [Intro: Casine Kelly (Shake-A-Vel)] Yeah, Brooklyn Chronicles Buddha Monk is that nigga, for real (five families) O.P.N. (exclusive) O Press Nation (Shake-A-Vel) O Press was the nation, On Point is the nigga This shit is so serious right now, BK uncensored... One time, yeah... [Hook 4X: Shake-A-Vel] It's my world, my life, my hood, my niggas 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 niggas can never hang out, when I pull a thang out How dare these little bastards Spit acid on wax til it becomes classic My Zu Clan is like a mafia, use spatulas Chop 'em off, shit 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 bastards 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, drugs all pile up to murder The boy mouth talk greasy like motor oil, twist a JR Shake, red hot niggas, it's hard boiled O Press, by the streets combat, I'm reppin' to eat By any means, when we roll, cold killas, you coward Just lose focus, bang heat focus Enemies left in the powers of beholders Just cut open, nigga, ya life ghosted Got spotted by hitmen from Nostrand Slam the scope, it's murder, muthafucka, choke Fuck this rapping shit, 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 shit 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 Bastards 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 killas and crooks, when Walking the mean streets of Brooklyn [Chorus 2X]