Luyện nghe bài hát House of Flying Daggers

He he he he, nobody is to save you now

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

I pop off like a mobster
Angel hair with the sauce, summertime can't top the scorch
Check my hot broad, I the Porsche
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, lock the
No respect for the and laws
In the land where your own blood brother still plot for
Seen things drop your jaw
My soldiers got dropped in war, see the mural on the wall?
Won't stop til I them all
block me? You gots to brawl, tray shots and all
Cause I ain't on the clock for
The Spot Rusher, blow the spot for sure
break off the block with raw, my stock is more
The General, watch your

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

Soldiers in the front, let the pump
on the left, fight to the death
Fam on the right, infrared
Wolves in the back, ready to attack, for

in the front, let the heat pump
Troops on the left, to the death
Fam on the right, lights
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 gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we scared
To on niggas, our guns is chunky
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 live
From Benetton rugby skullies, conductor jumpers
The train hats fit me
Rae job is to sure the coke is fluffy
I politic his birthday bash with Puffy
Bagged Nia soon as I up, the kid ain't inked up
I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as as King Tut (yeah, yeah)
Slippers, is minked up, under the doo-rag, bro (uh, yo, yo)
My three dimensional fade is cut

Man, ya niggas ain't to us, still a pistol bust
your melon 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 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 Wu-Tang for
for life, they can't forget the cuts
Got a whole line of joints, and while you at it
Pass the joint, let's push this music the point
Of no return, til they crash and burn, the ashes
Then placed inside Ol' Dirty urn
it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war
What you I brought 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 move fast
And you have enough strength
And your body movements are a string climb
It's too easy for me to you up

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