Luyện nghe bài hát House of Flying Daggers

He he he he, nobody is going to you now

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
Soldiers in the front, let the heat

I pop off like a boss
Angel with the lobster sauce, summertime can't top the scorch
Check my hot broad, I dropped the
F-B-I wanna watch the force, to lock my source
I'm from, hear the macs, techs, glocks and fours
Hide the safe, nigga, lock the
No respect for the cops and
In the land where your own blood brother still for yours
Seen that'll drop your jaw
My soldiers got dropped in war, see the 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 clock for
The Spot Rusher, down the spot for sure
Still break off the block with raw, my is more
The General, your 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, from know horse, she lied
Fly criteria, bury me in
With whips and spears, and rough out of Syria
A true don, only I could do
Rock fitted hats, get crack money and a sick blue joint
Retard-less, I'mma regardless
Resume is up live, I shank niggas up for larger E's
And speak with the in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the crop
All these hip eat cock
You can see me in the street or the
I'd rather be promoting your block or fresh sneakers with gwops
Yo, I'm an ill dude, been a real dude
fuck around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo

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

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

Leather jackets on, 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
we bust niggas down with bats, swell up they joints
Elbow, wrists, shins get cracked
We still humiliate, brutalize, pop, pulverize
Still got gear in the closet, stupid live
Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor jumpers
The hats fit me lovely
Rae job is to make sure the coke is
While I politic his bash with Puffy
Bagged Nia as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up
I'm an old mummy, my weigh as much as King Tut (yeah, yeah)
Slippers, robes is minked up, the doo-rag, bro (uh, yo, yo)
My three dimensional is clean cut

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

He he, basic kung fu is no good
You can't move fast
And you don't have enough
And your body movements are like a string
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