Luyện nghe bài hát House of Flying Daggers

He he he he, is going to save you now

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

I pop off a mobster boss
Angel hair the lobster sauce, summertime can't top the scorch
Check my hot broad, I dropped the
wanna watch 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 cops and
In the land where your own blood still plot for yours
Seen things that'll your jaw
My soldiers got dropped in war, see the on the project wall?
Won't til I copped them all
Wanna block me? You gots to brawl, tray and all
Cause I ain't on the for talk
The Rusher, blow down the spot for sure
break off the block with raw, my stock is more
The General, watch board

Deep pockets with the eight on me, sleep with the safe in the
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 rough diamonds out of
A true don, only I do wrong
fitted hats, get crack money and drive a sick blue joint
Retard-less, I'mma regardless
Resume is straight up live, I shank niggas up for E's
And speak with the youth in the spot, eat the fresh fruit in the
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 been a dude
fuck around, I will spill on you and kill you in the field, boo

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

Leather on, rocked up rock stars
Treacherous bank robbers, the plan up, we pop guards
The gotta eat, seeds is hungry, that's 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 still humiliate, brutalize, Ruger pop,
Still got in the closet, that's stupid live
From Benetton rugby skullies, Oshkosh conductor
The train hats fit me
Rae job is to make sure the is fluffy
While I politic his birthday bash Puffy
Bagged Nia as I linked up, the kid ain't inked up
I'm an old mummy, my gold weigh as as King Tut (yeah, yeah)
Slippers, robes is minked up, the doo-rag, bro (uh, yo, yo)
My dimensional fade 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 for fisticuffs
Or for the cop that wanna clip the
Man, is in this bitch or what, don't get it twisted, we
Twist it up and even with dust
See these can't resist the rush, they Wu-Tang 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 to go, for sure, ya nigga goes 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 can't fast enough
And you don't have enough
And your body movements are a string climb
It's too easy for me to you up

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