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
Soldiers in the front, let the heat

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 the force, trying to lock my source
I'm from, hear the macs, techs, glocks and fours
Hide the safe, nigga, lock the
No for the cops and laws
In the land where own blood brother still plot for yours
Seen that'll 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 Rusher, blow down the spot for sure
Still break off the with raw, my stock is more
The General, watch your

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 reefer in the flicks, whoadie ride
Bolt his gun off, know your horse, she lied
Fly criteria, bury me in
whips and spears, and rough diamonds out of Syria
A don, only I could do wrong
Rock fitted hats, get money and drive a sick blue joint
Retard-less, blow regardless
Resume is up live, I shank niggas up for larger E's
And speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh in the crop
All these hip eat cock
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 real
Don't fuck around, I will spill on you and 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

Soldiers in the front, let the 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 rock
Treacherous bank robbers, the plan gold up, we pop
The team gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's why we ain't
To dump on niggas, our is chunky
Usually we niggas down with bats, swell up they joints
Elbow, wrists, shins get cracked
We humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop, pulverize
Still got gear in the closet, that's stupid
From Benetton rugby skullies, conductor jumpers
The train hats fit me
Rae job is to make sure the coke is
While I his birthday bash with Puffy
Bagged Nia soon as I linked up, the kid ain't up
I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as as King Tut (yeah, yeah)
Slippers, is minked up, under 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 melon like I split the Dutch
Got a lot of piff to puff, and I ain't come for
Or for the cop that wanna the cuffs
Man, is Staten in this bitch or what, get it twisted, we
Twist it up and mixed with dust
See these fans can't the rush, they Wu-Tang for life
for life, they can't forget the cuts
Got a whole line of classic joints, and you at it
Pass the joint, let's push this music the point
Of no return, til they crash and burn, down the
placed inside Ol' Dirty Bastard's urn
When it's my to go, for sure, ya nigga goes to war
What you think I brought these soldiers
To send shot like me not, at any nigga
Respect, bitch, that figure goin' get me got

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