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, ready to
in the front, let the heat pump

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

Deep pockets the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the wall
The on with the make-up and all
Swap six 45's, twist in the flicks, papi whoadie ride
Bolt his gun off, from know your horse, she
Fly criteria, bury me in
With whips and spears, and diamonds out of Syria
A true don, only I do wrong
Rock fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue
Retard-less, blow regardless
Resume is straight up live, I shank up for larger E's
And speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fruit in the crop
All these hip eat cock
You can see me in the street or the
I'd rather be promoting block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops
Yo, I'm an ill dude, always a real dude
fuck around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo

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

jackets on, rocked up rock stars
Treacherous bank robbers, the gold up, we pop guards
The team gotta eat, is hungry, that's why we ain't 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, Ruger pop,
Still got in the closet, that's stupid live
From Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor
The train fit me lovely
Rae job is to sure the coke 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 much as Tut (yeah, yeah)
Slippers, is minked up, under the doo-rag, bro (uh, yo, yo)
My three dimensional is clean cut

Man, ya niggas shit to us, still a pistol bust
Split melon 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 in this bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we
Twist it up and even mixed dust
See these fans can't the rush, they Wu-Tang for life
Scarred for life, can't forget the cuts
Got a line of classic joints, and while you at it
Pass the joint, let's push this past the point
Of no return, til they crash and burn, the ashes
Then inside Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn
When my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war
What you think I brought these soldiers
To shot like forget me not, at any nigga
Respect, bitch, that figure they get me got

He he, basic kung fu is no good
You can't fast enough
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 afraid my back is
Ha ha ha, you still got a lot to