Luyện nghe bài hát Cuts to The Gut

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

[shorty stain 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 catch ya ya least expect, the hard head
For those trife, it cuts like a knife
Who choose to play dice, who choose to dice
that, this one is a money maker
My album took that taker, I see ya money and he stashin
I that nigga and I had to quick react
And blast quick, nigga tried to front, he laugh at
This type of style is hardcore, nigga to front
When he what? move on him, what?
But hit him with my utmost shit
If ya can't bring death, then ya can't

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

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

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

[dutch killa]
Bloaw! little was good, was dippy
The wild-ass hippy who packed the heater
Lived the good life, was praised around, the life
He ran with his man from the second
happy, puffin on the staircase wall
Greedy had a younger brotha, they lived with motha
Motha had no fatha, they both held otha
And for the otha, greedy saw the seat
Never the feat, at nite he would creap
Was still packin heat, the planned to catch a
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, caught in the
His man his boot out, he was caught in a trance
He has his mask, laid out past dawn, now momma's missed

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