Luyện nghe bài hát House of Flying Daggers

He he he he, is going to save you now

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

I pop off like a boss
Angel hair the lobster sauce, summertime can't top the scorch
my hot broad, I dropped the Porsche
F-B-I watch the force, trying to lock my source
Where I'm from, hear the macs, techs, and fours
the safe, nigga, lock the doors
No respect for the cops and
In the land where your own brother still plot for yours
Seen that'll drop your 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, shots and all
Cause I on the clock for talk
The Spot Rusher, blow down the for sure
Still break off the block with raw, my stock is
The General, watch your

Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the in the wall
The on with 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 diamonds out of
A true don, I could do wrong
Rock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a blue joint
Retard-less, I'mma blow
Resume is straight up live, I niggas up for larger E's
And with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop
All these hip eat cock
You can see me in the or the yacht
I'd rather be promoting your or buying fresh sneakers with gwops
Yo, I'm an ill dude, always a real dude
Don't around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo

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

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

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

Man, ya niggas ain't to us, still a pistol bust
Split your like I split the Dutch
Got a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't for fisticuffs
Or for the cop that wanna clip the
Man, is Staten in this bitch or what, get it twisted, we
it up and even mixed with dust
See these can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for life
Scarred for life, can't forget the cuts
Got a whole line of classic joints, and you at it
Pass the joint, let's this music past the point
Of no return, til they crash and burn, down the
placed inside Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn
When it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga to war
What you think I these soldiers for?
To shot like forget me not, at any nigga
Respect, bitch, figure they goin' get me got

He he, your basic fu is no good
You can't fast enough
And you don't have enough
And your movements are like a string climb
too easy for me to trip you up

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