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, fight to the
Fam on the right, infrared
Wolves in the back, to attack
Soldiers in the front, let the pump

I pop off like a mobster
Angel with the lobster sauce, summertime can't 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, glocks and
the safe, nigga, lock the doors
No respect for the cops and
In the land where your own blood brother still plot for
Seen that'll drop your jaw
My soldiers got dropped in war, see the on the project wall?
Won't til I copped them all
Wanna me? You gots to brawl, tray shots and all
Cause I ain't on the clock for
The Rusher, blow down the spot for sure
Still break off the block with raw, my stock is
The General, your board

Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep the safe in the wall
The cameras on with the and all
six 45's, twist reefer in the flicks, papi whoadie ride
Bolt his gun off, know your horse, she lied
Fly criteria, me in Africa
With whips and spears, and rough out of Syria
A don, only I could do wrong
fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint
Retard-less, I'mma blow
Resume is straight up live, I niggas 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 street or the
I'd rather be your block or buying fresh sneakers with gwops
Yo, I'm an ill dude, always been a real
Don't fuck around, I spill 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, infrared
in the back, ready to attack, for what

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

Leather jackets on, rocked up rock
bank robbers, the plan gold up, we pop guards
The team 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, they shins get
We still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop,
Still got gear in the closet, that's live
From Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor
The hats fit me lovely
Rae job is to make the coke is fluffy
While I politic his birthday bash with
Bagged Nia as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up
I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as much as 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, a pistol bust
Split melon like 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 in this bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we
it up and even mixed with dust
See these fans can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang for
Scarred for life, can't forget the cuts
Got a whole line of joints, and while you at it
Pass the joint, let's push this music the point
Of no return, til they and burn, down the ashes
Then placed inside Ol' Bastard's urn
it's my time to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war
What you think I brought these for?
To send like forget me not, at any nigga
Respect, bitch, figure they goin' get me got

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

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