Luyện nghe bài hát House of Flying Daggers

He he he he, is going to save you now

Soldiers in the front, let the heat
Troops on the left, to the death
Fam on the right, lights
in the back, ready to attack
Soldiers in the front, let the pump

I pop off a mobster boss
Angel hair with the lobster sauce, can't top the scorch
Check my hot broad, I dropped the
F-B-I wanna watch the force, trying to my source
I'm from, hear the macs, techs, glocks and fours
Hide the safe, nigga, the doors
No for the cops and laws
In the land where your own brother still plot for yours
Seen things that'll drop jaw
My got dropped in war, see the mural on the project wall?
Won't stop til I them all
Wanna block me? You gots to brawl, tray and all
Cause I ain't on the for talk
The Spot Rusher, blow down the for sure
Still break off the with raw, my stock is more
The General, watch board

Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep the safe in the wall
The cameras on the make-up and all
Swap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, whoadie ride
Bolt his gun off, know your horse, she lied
Fly criteria, me in Africa
With whips and spears, and rough out of Syria
A don, only I could do wrong
Rock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick joint
Retard-less, I'mma blow
Resume is straight up live, I niggas up for larger E's
And speak the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop
All these hip hoppers eat
You can see me in the street or the
I'd rather be promoting your block or buying fresh with gwops
Yo, I'm an ill dude, always been a dude
Don't fuck around, I will on you and kill you in the field, boo

Soldiers in the front, let the pump
Troops on the left, fight to the
Fam on the right, lights
in the back, ready to attack, for what

Soldiers in the front, let the heat
Troops on the left, fight to the
Fam on the right, infrared
Wolves in the back, to attack, for what

Leather jackets on, rocked up rock
Treacherous bank robbers, the gold up, we pop guards
The team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, why we ain't scared
To dump on niggas, our guns is
Usually we bust niggas with bats, swell up they joints
Elbow, wrists, shins get cracked
We still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop,
Still got gear in the closet, that's live
From Benetton skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers
The train hats fit me
Rae job is to make sure the coke is
While I politic his bash with Puffy
Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't up
I'm an old mummy, my gold as much as King Tut (yeah, yeah)
Slippers, robes is minked up, the doo-rag, bro (uh, yo, yo)
My dimensional fade is clean cut

Man, ya ain't shit to us, still a pistol bust
Split your melon like I the Dutch
Got a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't come for
Or for the cop that wanna clip the
Man, is Staten in bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we
Twist it up and even mixed dust
See these fans can't resist the rush, they for life
Scarred for life, they can't the cuts
Got a line of classic joints, and while you at it
Pass the joint, push this music past the point
Of no return, til they crash and burn, down the
Then placed inside Ol' Dirty urn
When it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga to war
What you think I brought these soldiers
To send like forget me not, at any nigga
Respect, bitch, that they goin' get me got

He he, basic kung fu is no good
You can't fast enough
And you don't enough strength
And your body movements are a string climb
It's too easy for me to you up

He he he, it feel, huh?
It's no fair, I'm my back is broken
Ha ha ha, you got a lot to learn