Luyện nghe bài hát Clan In Da Front

Up the 36 Chambers
Heheh, it's the Face Killah

Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a
Wu-Tang Beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a

The RZA, the GZA, Ol Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck,
Ghost Face Killer, the Method Man, Raekwon the Chef, the Master
Raw Desire, LeVon, Cipher
O'Clock, Sixty Second Assassin, the 4th Disciple
The Brand
K.D. the Down Low Wrecka, Shyheim AKA The Child
Doo-Doo Wales, Mista Hezakiah, better as the Yin and the Yang
The Tru Masta, Asan, DJ Skane, The Tru Robocop through
Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin' man Wise the
The Shaolin Soldiers, and Popa Ron
Comin' down the motherfuckin' South end of things

Killa all over your fuckin' planet
Thirty-six of death
Three-hundred and sixty degrees of perfected
Choppin' off your motherfuckin'
Peace, and every borough
Crooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Staten
The motherfuckin' Bronx, killa

The
come on, give him the

Clan in da front, let your feet
Niggas on the left, brag to death
Now hoods on the right, for the night
Punks in the back, come on and to

The Wu is comin' through, the is critical
Fuckin' wit my style, is sort of a Miracle
On 34th Street, in the of Herald
I Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald-
Ine Ferraro, full of sorrow
'cause the hoe didn't win but the sun still come out tomorrow
And shine shine like gold mine
comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballentine
Pass the bone, kid pass the
Let's get on this mission like Jones, the GZA
One who just represent the click
With the game and soul, of an old school
Like the Mack and Dolemite, who did bids
Claudine to Cooley High and had mad kids
So stop, the life you save may be motherfuckin' own
I'll hang your ass with this
Make way for the of traffic
Wu-Tang's through with Full Metal Jackets
God squad that's mad hard to
Come frontin' hard, Bernhard Goetz what he deserves

Clan in da front, let your feet
Niggas on the left, brag to death
Now hoods on the right, wild for the
Punks in the back, on and attract to

The response while I bomb that ass, "You shit!"
Your wack ass town had you
Egos is somethin' the Wu-Tang
up niggas on a stage get rushed
I give a god damn, on the shows you did
How rhymes you got, or who knows you kid?
'cause I don't know ya show me what you know
I come sharp as a and I cut you slow
You become so Pat as my increases
What's that in your ah human feces!
your shitty drawers in the hamper
Next time come strapped a fuckin' Pamper
How ya sound be ? better off a quitter
I'm on the G, and it's a no-hitter
And my DJ the catcher, my man
Anyway the one who devised the plan
He throws the signs I up the beats with clout
I throw the to the mic and I strike em out
So it doesn't matter on how you intrigue
You can't fuck with in the major leagues

Clan in da front, let your stomp
on the left, brag shit to death
Now hoods on the right, for the night
Punks in the back, on and attract to

Clan in da front, let feet stomp
on the left, brag shit to death
Now on the right, wild for the night
Punks in the back, come on and to

Hoods on the
Punks in the back, to
on the left
Hoods on the
Punks in the back, on, to what
Let feet stomp
Brag to death
Wild for the

Niggas on the left, shit to death
Hoods on the right, for the night
Punks in the back, on and attract to
Clan in da front, let your feet