Luyện nghe bài hát Guillotinz (Swordz)

Intro: Deck

Allow me to demonstrate the of Shaolin
The special technique of

Poisonous, (word word word)
I should slap all y'all niggaz for in my fuckin face with that shit
Alright cool yeah, go man...

Verse One: Inspectah Deck a.k.a. INS

paragraphs, smash ya phonograph
in half, it be the Inspectah on the warpath
First class leavin with a cast
Causin like the aftermath when guns blast
Run fast, here comes the verbal
Rhymes runnin wild a child in a walker
I scored the inner slums abroad
And my are razor sharp I sliced the mic from the cord
First they criticize, but now have become
mentally paralyzed with that I devise
Now I testify, the is I, Rebel INS
Ya highness, blessed to
with voltage of an eel, truth I reveal'll
the amateurs who screamed to keep it real
Caesar black hoodied up and fatigues
Part time minor leagues third degrees
Attack like a wolf pack, once I pull
then guard you, and bust like a fullback

Verse Two: Killer a.k.a. Tony Starks

Yo, you fourteen carat slum computer wizard
Tappin inside my rap causes blizzards
Do I like the kills for ice like botta digits
Gorillas injected strength of eighty midgets
The Earth spins ruins, rap exotic
Let my peeps in, niggaz gaspin swallowin
a dosage, you overdosed in rap
High explosives my hypnotize with hypnosis
I goods, my whole Clan is on the run like Natural Born Killers
the album Thriller
Now access the jig who has bombs and launchers
Float like killer bees is what I sponsor
Ya entrepeneur, pens and like shakespeare
When I fuck I grab hair, collect drawers as
Fuck yeah, my crew German beers
My career is based on guns, throwin cats in
Etcetera, any lame ass competitor
Who try to front, get and passed like leathers
Whatever hot hardheads get like mirrors
Beretta splatter your goose, scatter ya feathers
Say never poetry crumbs deal with graphic
Blew my overseas in mansions
If rap was crack, fully I be tour cats
Tax the kingpin of the rap drug
Village get slapped in Manhattan
for rappin, big steps off laffin

(Were you using the Wu-Tang school method against me?
I've learned so many styles, me)

Verse Three: the Chef a.k.a. Lou Diamonds

Sit back relax, fake niggaz get turns
Watch me massage ya with slang that's king
Projects filled young men cause threats
Who is that? Thousand dollar and techs
Focus, the niggaz of life shit
These mics is like cocaine Sun, check the hype shit
Exchange mad taste the sweepstakes
Keepin up on fakes outta state for
No doubt, plus amount, we making dough off of
Puttin fifty on the Land and Allah, it's like
Pull ya shoes up black, matta of just adapt
Tie up, ya black and tight hats
Corners, surrounded with foreigners
Whattup Feds caught you grudgin for his bread
But regardless, peace to jail niggaz charges
Unify layin in the with La
My Clan done ran Japan to Atlanta, with stamina
and gamblers, and gram handlers
Tical the Isle, so God, let's get steamed
Infrared guard yo' Beem, so nuff respect
Rude you bet, keep it movin par shallah
Pro like tar
Designin the fly shit and shinin and
the RZA pours more beats than fine wine
raps go to black
with 50 other niggaz on the other of the map
Knew it's all good and all done what, we want
Mike Tyson of this rap shit, pullin out for fun

Verse Four: The a.k.a. Maximillion

The nigga get mad, I got mad styles of my own
And it's when my hands grip the chrome microphone
Verbally I catch with cordless shotties
Intriguin emcees, I keep em trained potties
I facts, my sword is an axe
to split invisible, like dope fiend tracks
Sky's the limit, are timid, and nobody knows
How we move like in sheep clothes
Producin data, microchips or
Undaground and off air, the Land of the
Notorious henchman from the
Strikin niggaz the Mason-Dixon line crossed