kids stopping to see this when I drop on a remix   don’t get angry get gangster, throw it up like bullimics   pieces of genius, pop it in and the beat hits   it’s s-i-c-k, now drop the prefix   it’s ck undercover, like cops rocking t-shirts   ck spits the thunder that’s rocking your speakers   what I pour on the page or perform on a stage   it’s like New Orleans one day, I drop torrents of rain   the orchestra plays, I turn the music up loud   take my time to create like a cumulous cloud   til I reach capacity, achieve a mastery    recharge the batteries and be hard as athletes   I come out swinging like Bonds in September    first at-bat back and double to deep center   think I’m hitting for average when I scribble on napkins   make the beat with the magic then I’m ripping a splash hit      stage name is ck, it’s just two letters   grade-A methods from Sun-Tzu’s lessons   Art of War hardcore born in The Trilogy   far more than Star Wars metaphors and similes   my force is enormous, words like lightsabers   and keep this flow fresher than a class of ninth graders   sleep days, write nights, I work to be perfect   bleed dreams, eat beats, breathe words, I speak verses   rehearse this in the same dorm room I record in   splatterpaint my brain like a Jackson Pollock portrait   I’m what the doctor ordered, but don’t get it twisted   I spit the sickness in your system like Syphilis   my songs stick to skin similar to Siamese   they see the ck, think Calvin Klein designer jeans   or Carbon and Potassium for chemists that’s listening   just know it’s Charlie K when my record is spinning      rhyming from my basement, eyes on the Fillmore   I got the drive like a young Happy Gilmore   y’all is played out like Nintendo 64   but I keep them coming like the Paris Hilton video   MCs think slow as 56k modems   my flows hit hard as steeltoes to the scrotum   I shock like Raskolnikov or Holocaust lit   explosive like drinks with Malatovs mixed in   drop jaws, not soft, this Art of War hardcore   when I yell Trilogy I don’t mean Star Wars   the only dark side I know is inside my eyelids   so I flipped the moon to see this side of brightness   Pink Floyd to Thursday, musically literate   bring noise like birthdays filled with little kids   I kick this music through the mind of a menace   you couldn’t touch what I spit if you were my dentist