Artist: Chi-King Album: Rollin' Aces: Chamber of the Lost Child Song: E.Q. Typed by: Cno Evil [Hook: Chi-King] I got my press kit, my bio, and my EPK I got my press kit, my bio, and my EPK I got my press kit, my bio, and my EPK I got my press kit, my bio, and my EPK [Chi-King] I got my press kit, my bio, and my EPK CD, on Flash Drive, or your CDJ Spit the truth in my rhymes, so the CD play DJ, go and take it away So put your hoodies back on, put your rollies away Let's rep for the streets, the real niggas back in the day I mean the real real niggas from back in the days When they was no CD's, a flyer, just straight rhymes for hire We repped in the club and that was the rep that you got Not the rep that you bought, yo, I'm real in this spot Uh, let's bring it back to the real hip hop For all my niggas that learned how to rock From the teachers that taught teacher to be a believer I overstand, understand, Chi-King fly like a sneaker Through the speaker, I come to reach ya Who want to fuck with the God, come on, son, leak it [Chorus 2X: Chi-King] I transmit the spit to rock you Drum kick, like the block, dude Twist ya neck, that's the E.Q. and this the mic check Chi-King, Brooklyn Zu, get it right, k? [Hook] [Chi-King] Aiyo, my pen roll deep, so I walk on the beat Drop the bars as you listen bout my life on the street See good man turning to priest See priest getting locked, yo, turning to beast In the street, beef rise up like fresh baked beets Race, creed or color, can't recognize your brother when it come to bring butter Yo, word to mother, I'm from the slum, put up or shut up Stay on my feet, so I never have to get up, uh It's all a set-up, this mission got it locked, sequel Making the changes, try to keep young brothers locked Change the truth and tell you what it's not See my shape on my waist, nigga, ain't no calling the cops Yo, all the odds against me, still rise to the top Cutting corners cuz I'm silly wit the ox Exquisite wit the ox, like a crater you gon' feel me when I drop He the rebel like the seconds to a clock, and, yo [Chorus 2X] [Chi-King] Aiyo, I'm back again with pure evidence to rock you And dilate your pupils, the hip hop Sinatra Do it for Big Poppa, Brooklyn, like I'm supposed to La Cosa Nostra, general, I'm taking over I take some weigh off Hov and master the game Third lane mashing your chain, looking like Lil' Fame Go DJ, drop it like a Hot Boy, Lil' Wayne This ain't no game, this ain't no thang This a live Brooklyn nigga wit that same old swing Say disrespect the king and it's shame, shame, shame Seen a car full of a hoodies, and the bang bang bang Keep it non stop, dog, let me do my thing Dominirican from the county of Kings, blessed by gods So the angels sing, about that motherless child Who was born to reign, government Julio, street name Chi-King And it's on... [Chorus 2X] [Hook]