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, 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 mobster
Angel hair with the lobster sauce, summertime top the scorch
Check my hot broad, I the Porsche
F-B-I wanna watch the force, trying to lock my
Where I'm from, hear the macs, techs, and fours
the safe, nigga, lock the doors
No respect for the and laws
In the where your own blood brother still plot for yours
Seen things drop your jaw
My soldiers got dropped in war, see the mural on the project
Won't til I copped them all
Wanna block me? You gots to brawl, tray and all
Cause I ain't on the clock for
The Spot Rusher, blow down the for sure
Still break off the block raw, my stock is more
The General, watch board

pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the wall
The cameras on the make-up and all
Swap six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi 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
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 speak with the in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop
All hip hoppers eat cock
You can see me in the or the yacht
I'd rather be promoting block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops
Yo, I'm an ill dude, always a real dude
Don't fuck around, I will spill on you and you in the field, boo

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

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

Leather jackets on, rocked up stars
Treacherous bank robbers, the plan gold up, we pop
The team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we scared
To dump on niggas, our guns is
Usually we bust niggas down bats, swell up they joints
Elbow, wrists, they get cracked
We humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize
Still got gear in the closet, that's stupid
Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers
The train hats fit me
Rae job is to make sure the is fluffy
While I politic his bash with Puffy
Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid inked up
I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as as King Tut (yeah, yeah)
Slippers, robes is up, under the doo-rag, bro (uh, yo, yo)
My three fade is clean cut

Man, ya niggas ain't shit to us, still a bust
Split your melon 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
Twist it up and even with dust
See these can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for life
Scarred for life, they can't forget the
Got a whole of classic joints, and while you at it
Pass the joint, let's push this music the point
Of no return, til they crash and burn, down the
Then placed Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn
it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war
What you think I brought these for?
To shot like forget me not, at any nigga
Respect, bitch, that they goin' get me got

He he, your basic kung fu is no
You move fast enough
And you have enough strength
And body movements are like a string climb
It's too for me to trip you up

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