Luyện nghe bài hát House of Flying Daggers

He he he he, is going to save you now

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

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
Hide the safe, nigga, the doors
No respect for the cops and
In the land where own blood brother still plot for yours
Seen things that'll drop jaw
My soldiers got in war, see the mural on the project wall?
Won't stop til I copped all
Wanna me? You gots to brawl, tray shots and all
Cause I on the clock for talk
The Spot Rusher, blow down the for sure
Still break off the block raw, my stock is more
The General, your board

Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep the safe in the wall
The on with the make-up and all
Swap six 45's, twist in the flicks, papi whoadie ride
his gun off, from know your horse, she lied
Fly criteria, me in Africa
With whips and spears, and diamonds out of Syria
A true don, only I could do
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 these hip hoppers eat
You can see me in the or the yacht
I'd rather be promoting your or buying fresh sneakers with gwops
Yo, I'm an ill dude, always been a dude
Don't fuck around, I will on you and kill you in the field, boo

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

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

Leather jackets on, rocked up stars
Treacherous bank robbers, the plan up, we pop guards
The team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, why we ain't scared
To dump on niggas, our guns is
Usually we bust niggas down with bats, swell up they
Elbow, wrists, shins get cracked
We humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize
Still got gear in the closet, that's stupid
From Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh jumpers
The hats fit me lovely
Rae job is to sure the coke is fluffy
While I politic his birthday bash with
Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid inked up
I'm an old mummy, my gold 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 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 come for fisticuffs
Or for the cop that wanna the cuffs
Man, is Staten in bitch 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, can't forget the cuts
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 they crash and burn, down the
Then placed inside Ol' Bastard's urn
When it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga to war
What you think I brought soldiers for?
To send like forget me not, at any nigga
Respect, bitch, that figure goin' get me got

He he, your basic kung fu is no
You move fast enough
And you don't have strength
And your movements are like a string climb
too easy for me to trip you up

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