Luyện nghe bài hát Cuts to The Gut

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

[shorty stain of brooklyn zu]
It wasn't my fault you outside without 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 those trife, it cuts like a knife
Who choose to play dice, who choose to play
It's that, this one is a money
My album took that taker, I see ya nigga and he stashin
I caught that nigga and I had to react
And blast quick, nigga to front, he gonna laugh at
This type of style is hardcore, nigga tried to
When he what? move on him, what?
But i'ma hit him with my shit
If ya can't bring death, then ya represent

[chorus: monk]
Deadly is the slang the brooklyn zu
we comin thru ya town, what ya niggaz gonna do?

[dutch killa]
Never carried steal, before ya got that
But now ya wouldn't have got it, so now ya puffin
Two of drakness comin forth, there is many
Blind once or twice, then those heads become
My is more deadly than a shot from yo gun
You see I swung once, but I swung fourth
Just be by yo vision, now yo shit's on the
Shit that, ya can't face with plasta
Sent niggaz back 'cause I am the masta
or pylon wack-ass styles in the mud
Minds deep in heart, this is wit yo gut
It's understood, oh he be someone you see
And that someone is me, too deep for you to
>from the day of yo birth till ya in the hurse
There's nothin happens that could've been worse
Let me free, atom bomb will be the sequel
Which all men are cremated

[buddha
war, come back on four tracks
Niggaz wanna test the bees, ya be wack
more, actual fact
Comin thru with the bees attack
My sword has the to devour in any hour
Slang cuts ya brains, now ya only hang
Matter of sense, so I inflict the killa
Dirty will with this mix, breaks mad shit
There's is no crew that can the 1-12 crew
Don't let me go suu!, killa comin thru
Break the war the great and it kills with the slicin
I with mad sins, I'm the happy man again
Come into my and I kill like the lizard palm
Can't prevail the tails, now ya mind dwells
Into a dimension, no facts, only
sent to this train has three sixes on their skin

[dutch masta
Bloaw! little hare was good, was
The hippy who always packed the heater
Lived the good life, was praised around, the life
He ran with his man from the floor
Livin happy, puffin on the wall
Greedy had a younger brotha, they both with motha
Motha had no fatha, they held each otha
And prayed for the otha, greedy saw the
knew the feat, at nite he would creap
Was still packin heat, the planned to a digga
Greedy caught the hiccups, one, two more,
But got away, the eighty-fiver man
Yea, he strayed away, the clean eddie faked it
No icepick or fist, or tech-nine
He contemplated this, in the shootout
His man wanted his boot out, he was caught in a
He has his mask, out past dawn, now momma's grave missed

[outro: masta killa, (odb)]
at 'cha from every type of angle
Ya know bees represent the bronx
Queens, manhatten, all over world
The east coast, and down
Straight out of
And all over
Medina
(I love to the bees!)