Luyện nghe bài hát Guillotinz (Swordz)

Intro: Inspectah

Allow me to demonstrate the skill of
The technique of shadowboxing

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

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

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

Verse Ghostface Killer a.k.a. Tony Starks

Yo, you fourteen carat gold slum computer
Tappin my rap vein causes blizzards
Do I the kills for ice trife like botta digits
Gorillas injected with strength of eighty
The spins ruins, rap exotic blends
Let my peeps in, gaspin swallowin aspirins
What a dosage, you in rap
High explosives my hypnotize with hypnosis
I goods, my whole Clan is on the run like Natural Born Killers
Record-breaking the Thriller
Now access the jig who has and rocket launchers
like dope killer bees is what I sponsor
Ya entrepeneur, pens and gear like
I fuck I grab hair, collect drawers as souveneirs
Fuck yeah, my crew down German
My career is based on guns, throwin cats in
Etcetera, damage any ass competitor
Who try to front, get and passed like leathers
hot hardheads get shattered like mirrors
Beretta splatter your goose, scatter ya feathers
Say never poetry crumbs deal with graphic
Blew my family in mansions
If rap was crack, packed I be tour cats
Tax the of the rap drug traffickin
Village get slapped in Manhattan
for rappin, big Ghost 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 don't get turns
Watch me ya brain with slang that's king
Projects filled with young men threats
Who is that? Thousand chains and techs
Focus, the brokest of life shit
These mics is like cocaine Sun, check the suicidal shit
Exchange mad blunts taste the
Keepin up on fakes state for cakes
No doubt, plus nobody amount, we dough off of
Puttin fifty on the Land and Allah, like that
Pull ya shoes up black, matta of fact just
Tie up, ya black Nike's and tight
Corners, surrounded with foreigners
Whattup Feds caught you grudgin for his bread
But regardless, to jail niggaz with charges
Unify layin in the guard La
My Clan done ran Japan to Atlanta, with stamina
Clingers and gamblers, and gram
Tical like the Isle, so God, let's get
Infrared yo' Beem, so seek nuff respect
Rude bwoy you bet, keep it movin par
Pro like tar
Designin the fly and stay shinin and
the RZA pours more beats than fine wine
Concrete raps go to
50 other niggaz on the other side of the map
Knew all good and all done what, we want some
Mike Tyson of this rap shit, out Macs for fun

Verse Four: The a.k.a. Maximillion

The nigga don't get mad, I got mad of my own
And it's shown when my hands grip the microphone
Verbally I bodies with cordless shotties
Intriguin emcees, I keep em trained like
I bomb facts, my is an axe
to split backs invisible, like dope fiend
Sky's the limit, niggaz are timid, and nobody
How we move wolfs in sheep clothes
data, microchips or software
Undaground and off air, the Land of the
henchman from the North
Strikin niggaz where the Mason-Dixon crossed