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
Wolves in the back, to attack
Soldiers in the front, let the pump

I pop off like a boss
Angel hair with the lobster sauce, summertime 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 and laws
In the land where your own blood brother plot for yours
Seen things that'll drop jaw
My soldiers got dropped in war, see the on the project wall?
stop til I copped them all
Wanna block me? You gots to brawl, shots and all
I ain't on the clock for talk
The Spot Rusher, down the spot for sure
Still break off the with raw, my stock is more
The General, your board

Deep pockets with the eight on me, with the safe in the wall
The on with the make-up and all
Swap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi whoadie
Bolt his gun off, from know your horse, she
Fly criteria, me in Africa
With and spears, and rough diamonds out of Syria
A don, only I could do wrong
fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint
Retard-less, blow regardless
Resume is straight up live, I shank up for larger E's
And with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop
All hip hoppers eat cock
You can see me in the street or the
I'd rather be promoting your block or buying 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

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

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

Leather jackets on, rocked up stars
Treacherous bank robbers, the plan up, we pop guards
The gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we ain't scared
To dump on niggas, our is chunky
Usually we bust niggas down with bats, swell up joints
Elbow, wrists, shins get cracked
We humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize
got gear in the closet, that's stupid live
From Benetton rugby skullies, conductor jumpers
The train fit me lovely
Rae job is to make sure the coke is
While I politic his birthday with Puffy
Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't up
I'm an old mummy, my weigh 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 shit to us, still a 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 wanna clip the cuffs
Man, is Staten in bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we
it up and even mixed with dust
See these fans can't the rush, they Wu-Tang for life
Scarred for life, they forget the cuts
Got a whole line of classic joints, and you at it
Pass the joint, push this music past the point
Of no return, til they crash and burn, the ashes
Then placed inside Ol' Bastard's urn
When it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga to war
you think I brought these soldiers for?
To send shot like forget me not, at any
Respect, bitch, that figure goin' get me got

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

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