Luyện nghe bài hát Winter Warz

on
(Where sparkle at kid)

Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at your
Start to scream out loud, Wu-Tang's for more
Yes, the hour's four, I you before
for mic fights
(And the cold war)

rhyme you digest through the RZA console
Ask why I slam, pole
Raekwon the bomb, Hunchback, Norte Dame
Arms is bronze, buddah palm hit Qu'ran
It blows extreme, mean stream be the
Supreme team, CREAM team, redeemed
Vidal Sassoon, tones hear the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the

And split the bone, wig off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA
One dose of my feroc hand held cuts
spittin' shell paralyzed when you get touched
And critical, mic cords, hangin' like
Cords, dope swords, star general
Raw be the quote rap style sore
Through the fully operational, hand tote

Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at your
You start to out loud, Wu-Tang's back for more

More thousand times one, snatch up, my styles get done
I a title, enhanced how my belt was won, check it
majestic, broke mics are left infected
Germs start to spread through crew, drew like an epic
You asked for it, up the jams like syringes
My alone blows doors straight off the hinges
Masked Avenger, I appear to blow ear like wind
With a freestyle, sharper than the spear
So sit and let the king explore

me, the kid's nice and he holds swords
And his name, black attack's the nerve migraines
With more games beggars on trains, livid sharp pains
Rebel like Deck, you can't destroy this
You get ambushed, skate, try to this
Side effects of, hot raps and hot
A duffle bag full of guns son, dipped in
My culture, slides and attacks like a
Ghostface and Madison Square is on your

Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at your
You start to scream out loud, back for more
Yes, the four, I told you before
for mic fights
(And plus the war)

Be on the lookout for this mass murderous
That more body bags than apartments in projects
And as far as the coroners
The autopsy shows, it was a blow
Put on by my brought to the academy
Of the Wu and how to

Fuck up anatomy, steadily, calm and deadly
Spatter-head lyrics I lick your transmit
submit to the will as I kill your
Juvenile freestyle, the mentail
Devils worship this an icon
They're mics with the grips of a python

Yes, the shit is raw, comin' at door
Start to out loud, Wu-Tang's back for more

You of the rasp before but kept waiting
For the sun of song, I keep dancehalls
never worthy of my cause, I prolong, extravaganza, time sits still
No propaganda, be of the skill
As I forth the music, make love to your eardrum
Dedicated to rap niggaz, of the fearsome
Lebanon Don, Malcolm X threat
CD massacre, murder to
I blow the shop up, you ain't nothin' yet
One man ran, tryin to get away it
Put your bifocal on, me I'm comin'
Into your like Freddy enter dreams
Discombumberate technique and your scheme
Four applause, like a black dat to dat
You're stuck on stupid I'm stuck on the map

Nowhere to go next show bro
motherfuckers can't stop O
In battlin', you want me to start tattlin'
All upon the because y'all snakes keep rattlin'
Bitch, you got nothin' on the rich
Every other day my whole dress code
So just in case you want to me like Sherry
All y'all crab bitches ain't got to
Can't get a nigga Don dime a dozen
if I'm smoked out I can't be scoped out
I'm too ill, I Park Hill
See my face on the dollar bill
it in, and get ten dollars back
The fat LP with on the wax
it in your think, put valve up to twelve

Put all the other LP's on the shelf
And smoke a blunt, and dial

And you can long dick hip-hop
I damage any MC who in my direction
I'm Staten Island's best son what you heard
Niggaz still talkin shit is absurd
My is U.S.S.R.
P.L.O. got blown out the car
And ran over, by the Man jeep
Divine can't my style is so deep
like pussy, my low cut stay bushy
Like a porcupine, I part backs a spine
Cut you like a blunt and reconstruct your
I know you want to me, but I can read your mind

'Cuz you weak in the knees SWV
Tryin' to get a title Wu Killa Bee
Kid change your habit, you know I'm with the Abbot
Me and RZA ridin name in the tablet
Under vets, we our debts for mad years
Hibernate the sound, and now we out like
And blunt power, born power speakin'
The truth in the song be the pro-black