Luyện nghe bài hát Cuts to The Gut

[intro: monk, (shorty shit stain)]
Yea, aight, yo
We just gon' shut all mothafuckas up
(for all y'all mothafuckas)
Yea, shit

[shorty shit of brooklyn zu]
It wasn't my fault you came outside ya strap on
Tryin to get yo mack on and niggaz took of possession
Should've rolled deep, get crooked by niggaz I
And ya when ya least expect, the hard head
For livin trife, it cuts like a knife
Who choose to play dice, who to play dice
It's that, this one is a maker
My album took that taker, I see ya money and he stashin
I caught that nigga and I had to quick
And blast quick, nigga tried to front, he laugh at
This type of style is hardcore, nigga tried to
he what? what? move on him, what?
But i'ma hit him with my shit
If ya can't death, then ya can't represent

buddha monk]
Deadly is the slang the brooklyn zu
When we comin thru ya town, ya niggaz gonna do?

[dutch masta
Never carried steal, before ya got deal
But now ya wouldn't got it, so now ya puffin chronic
Two heads of drakness comin forth, there is
Blind once or twice, then those heads pennys
My swing is more than a shot from yo gun
You see I swung once, but really I swung
be by yo vision, now yo shit's on the floor
Shit like that, ya can't face with
Sent back 'cause I am the dutch masta
Kill or pylon wack-ass in the mud
Minds deep in heart, this is wit yo gut
understood, oh he be someone you can't see
And that someone is me, too deep for you to
>from the day of yo birth ya ride in the hurse
There's that happens that could've been worse
Let me free, atom bomb will be the final
all men are cremated equal

[buddha
Never war, come back on four
Niggaz wanna test the bees, ya must be
Never more, fact
Comin thru with the killa bees
My has the power to devour in any hour
Slang cuts ya brains, now ya only hang
Matter of sense, so I inflict the killa
Dirty assist with this mix, breaks mad shit
is no crew that can test the 1-12 crew
Don't let me go suu!, killa bees comin
the war with the great and it kills with the slicin
I come with mad sins, I'm the happy man
Come into my realm and I kill like the lizard
Can't with the tails, now ya mind dwells
a dimension, no facts, only fiction
Who's sent to train has three sixes on their skin

[dutch masta
Bloaw! little was good, was dippy
The wild-ass hippy who always the heater
Lived the life, was praised around, the hood life
He ran with his man the second floor
Livin happy, on the staircase wall
Greedy had a younger brotha, they lived with motha
Motha had no fatha, both held each otha
And prayed for the otha, saw the seat
Never the feat, at nite he would creap
Was still packin heat, the planned to catch a
Greedy the hiccups, one, two more, three
But got away, the eighty-fiver man
Yea, he strayed away, the clean eddie faked it
No icepick or fist, glock or
He this, caught in the shootout
His man wanted his boot out, he was in a trance
He has his mask, out past dawn, now momma's grave missed

dutch masta killa, (odb)]
Comin at 'cha from every type of
Ya know killa bees the bronx
Queens, manhatten, all over this
The east coast, and down
out of clark's
And all everywhere
warriors
(I to hear the bees!)