Luyện nghe bài hát Cuts to The Gut

[intro: buddha monk, (shorty stain)]
Yea, aight, yo
We just gon' shut all these up
(for all gangsta mothafuckas)
Yea, that

[shorty stain of brooklyn zu]
It wasn't my fault you came outside without ya on
Tryin to get yo mack on and niggaz took oath of
Should've deep, get crooked by niggaz I creap
And catch ya when ya least expect, the hard
For those livin trife, it cuts a knife
Who choose to dice, who choose to play dice
that, this one is a money maker
My album that taker, I see ya nigga money and he stashin
I that nigga and I had to quick react
And blast quick, nigga tried to front, he laugh at
type of style is hardcore, nigga tried to front
When he what? what? move on him,
But i'ma hit him with my shit
If ya bring death, then ya can't represent

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

[dutch killa]
Never carried steal, ya got that deal
But now ya have 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 deadly than a from yo gun
You see I swung once, but I swung fourth
be by yo vision, now yo shit's on the floor
Shit that, ya can't face with plasta
niggaz back 'cause I am the dutch masta
Kill or pylon wack-ass in the mud
Minds in heart, this is gold 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 till ya ride in the hurse
There's nothin that happens that been worse
Let me free, atom bomb be the final sequel
Which all men are equal

[buddha
Never war, come back on four
Niggaz wanna the bees, ya must be wack
Never more, actual
Comin thru the killa bees attack
My sword has the power to devour in any
Slang ya brains, now ya veins only hang
Matter of sense, so I the killa hits
will assist with this mix, breaks mad shit
There's is no that can test the 1-12 crew
let me go suu!, killa bees 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
Who's to this train has three sixes on their skin

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

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