Luyện nghe bài hát Guillotinz (Swordz)

Intro: Deck

Allow me to the skill of Shaolin
The special of shadowboxing

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

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

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

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

Yo, you fourteen gold slum computer wizard
inside my rap vein causes blizzards
Do I like the for ice trife like botta digits
Gorillas injected with of eighty midgets
The Earth ruins, rap exotic blends
Let my peeps in, niggaz swallowin aspirins
a dosage, you overdosed in rap
High explosives my post-its with hypnosis
I sell goods, my whole is on the run like Natural Born Killers
Record-breaking the album
Now access the jig who has bombs and rocket
like dope killer bees is what I sponsor
Ya entrepeneur, pens and gear like
When I fuck I grab hair, drawers as souveneirs
yeah, my crew down German beers
My career is based on guns, throwin in wheelchairs
Etcetera, any lame ass competitor
Who try to front, get broken and passed leathers
Whatever hot hardheads get shattered like
Beretta shots splatter your goose, ya feathers
Say never poetry chumps crumbs with graphic
my family 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 Ghost steps off

(Were you using the Wu-Tang school method against me?
I've learned so 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
filled with young men cause threats
Who is that? Thousand dollar chains and
Focus, the brokest of life shit
These mics is cocaine Sun, check the suicidal hype shit
Exchange mad blunts taste the
Keepin up on fakes outta for cakes
No doubt, plus amount, we making dough off of
Puttin on the Land and Allah, it's like that
Pull ya shoes up black, matta of just adapt
Tie up, ya black and tight hats
Corners, stay surrounded with
Whattup dread? caught you grudgin for his bread
But regardless, peace to niggaz with charges
layin in the guard with La
My Clan ran from Japan to Atlanta, with stamina
and gamblers, and gram handlers
Tical the Isle, so God, let's get steamed
Infrared guard yo' Beem, so seek respect
Rude bwoy you bet, it movin par shallah
Pro black tar
Designin the fly shit and shinin and
the RZA more beats than Cristal's fine wine
Concrete go to black
50 other 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, out Macs 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 my hands grip the chrome microphone
Verbally I bodies with cordless shotties
Intriguin emcees, I em trained like potties
I bomb facts, my is an axe
to split invisible, like dope fiend tracks
the limit, niggaz are timid, and nobody knows
How we like wolfs in sheep clothes
Producin data, or software
Undaground and off air, the Land of the
henchman from the North
Strikin niggaz the Mason-Dixon line crossed