Luyện nghe bài hát Guillotinz (Swordz)

Intro: Deck

Allow me to demonstrate the skill of
The special of shadowboxing

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

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

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

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

Yo, you carat gold slum computer wizard
Tappin inside my rap vein blizzards
Do I the kills for ice trife like botta digits
Gorillas with strength of eighty midgets
The Earth spins ruins, rap blends
Let my peeps in, niggaz swallowin aspirins
What a dosage, you in rap
High explosives my hypnotize with hypnosis
I sell goods, my whole Clan is on the run like Natural Killers
the album Thriller
Now access the jig who has and rocket launchers
like dope killer bees is what I sponsor
Ya entrepeneur, pens and gear like
When I I grab hair, collect drawers as souveneirs
Fuck yeah, my crew German beers
My career is based on guns, throwin cats in
Etcetera, damage any ass competitor
Who try to front, get and passed like leathers
Whatever hot hardheads get shattered mirrors
Beretta shots splatter your goose, ya feathers
Say never poetry chumps crumbs deal graphic
my family overseas in mansions
If rap was crack, fully packed I be cats
Tax the kingpin of the rap traffickin
niggaz get slapped in Manhattan
for rappin, big steps off laffin

(Were you just using the school method against me?
I've so many styles, forgive me)

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

Sit back relax, fake niggaz don't get
Watch me massage ya with slang that's king
Projects filled with young men cause
Who is that? Thousand dollar chains and
Focus, the niggaz of life shit
These is like cocaine Sun, check the suicidal hype shit
Exchange mad blunts taste the
up on fakes outta state for cakes
No doubt, plus nobody amount, we making off of
Puttin fifty on the Land and Allah, like that
Pull ya up black, matta of fact just adapt
Tie up, ya black Nike's and tight
Corners, stay surrounded with
Whattup dread? Feds caught you grudgin for his
But regardless, peace to niggaz with charges
layin in the guard with La
My Clan done ran Japan to Atlanta, with stamina
and gamblers, and gram handlers
Tical like the Isle, so God, get steamed
guard yo' Beem, so seek nuff respect
Rude bwoy you bet, keep it par shallah
Pro black tar
Designin the fly shit and stay and
the RZA pours more beats than fine wine
raps go to black
with 50 niggaz on the other side of the map
Knew it's all good and all what, we want some
Mike Tyson of this rap shit, pullin out for fun

Verse Four: The Genius/GZA a.k.a.

The don't get mad, I got mad styles of my own
And it's shown when my hands grip the microphone
Verbally I catch bodies with shotties
Intriguin emcees, I keep em like potties
I bomb facts, my is an axe
to split backs invisible, like dope fiend
the limit, niggaz are timid, and nobody knows
How we like wolfs in sheep clothes
Producin data, microchips or
and off air, the Land of the Lost
Notorious henchman from the
Strikin niggaz where the Mason-Dixon line