Luyện nghe bài hát Bloody Money Pt. 2

intro: talking

Yo, New Orleans, LA, Va to Queens, I-95, we never drive clean
But good, gotta get out the hood, to make it, now we kick it
Until our whole team'll take it to another level, another wit
bezel, like war against God against another devil
Sustainin, now we rim Moschino, niggaz say we it, switched it
Now it's Cristal, of Mistic, Jose, catch me wit a pigeon and
A gold biscuit, gettin mad lifted, let me find out, sellin dimes
Out my crack house, that's crashed out, let me catch that
Just like Stackhouse, kick ya back out, have you mad
Like you did whole bid, but didn't max out, yo Jose is
In other courageous, from South Carolina to D.C.
Yo the NC in like Montana, comin out the airport wit the hammer
Motherfucker, smoke more weed than Tucker, in Friday
When he treated like a sucker, in three ways
a whole key in three days, the way I know the crack game'll have you

In the ill days, yo I drink Lectaid, is sayin chulo, like Menegay
South side lost royal and royal, grand royale in Ohio, Cincinnati,
Yo from to Connecticut, got niggaz settin in, all predicate
this rap game is pregnant, N-O-R-E, Nore
Stand for Niggaz On the Run Eatin, no if they still treatin
The object of the game is to stay leavin, hit me on the Nokio
Let me if you still breathin, top grenade, ice it up, cop pies, slice it
up
You really think you nice enough, fuck wit Trice Allah
Even seekin scrolls until your world fall in, to my niggaz gettin they
Where they supposed been, don't rush, take your time
The come to those who wait, like Heinz, they be ketchup and spoil your
keg
Aiyyo it's I-95, wit my niggaz faith, wha!

2x: Nas (Noreaga)
Blood money (That's what life lead to)
Blood money (That's how my niggaz to)
Blood money (That's we smoke weed to)
Blood money (That's how my eat to)

Aiyyo, eatin from the same plate, and drinkin from the cup
Whoever thought that some would have to change
I went to games as a fan, they had Strickland, they traded him
Ever then, son, I hated them, shit's turnin sour in the N-Y
Half the team hurt, still niggaz get high and rock shirts
on the block know me for holdin b's work
Seein chips up in European whips, exceed the speed limit
Tinted up and weed scented, treatin life the auto bomb, never slow up
I'm head for being young and vulger, fly gifted
Y'all niggaz die over bitch shit, I got some hoes in the law gettin
Like Rik Smits, born hypocrit, now and then be on some different shit
Switch directions, my bad, disception
My love is for bloody money so skip the extras

Now what's a don?, a nigga a thug wit a charm, always on point
As as he's on, his goons'll respond, he move right and fear losin his

Mad dime, but never fit the shoes of his wife
You could tell by the finger nails, clean, hair up, every four days
A routine, where he lived, stay out the hood, fuck what a nigga say
Out for blood, but yo, lustin the dough, he see smile for way
In the same he play, but a true don'll get his proper groove on
He tell the truth even he lies, give you a fake name
Even his name is Nas, god body, and wide body, rumble for five
To the S-Class, six niggaz, double your size, come wit a plan
To it happen, 'cause sellin weight or rappin, we still trapped in a slave

And the crackers laughin
(That's what this lead to)