Luyện nghe bài hát Bloody Money Pt. 2

intro: talking

Yo, New Orleans, LA, Va to Queens, I-95, where we drive clean
But good, get out the hood, to really make it, now we kick it
our whole team'll take it to another level, another Rolie wit
Another bezel, like war against God another devil
Sustainin, now we rim Moschino, niggaz say we taped it, it
Now Cristal, instead of Mistic, Jose, catch me wit a pigeon and
A biscuit, gettin mad lifted, let me find out, it's sellin dimes
Out my crack house, yeah that's out, let me catch that
Just like Stackhouse, kick ya back out, you mad vexed
you did your whole bid, but didn't max out, yo Jose is
In other words courageous, South Carolina to D.C.
Yo the NC in Atlanta like Montana, out the airport wit the hammer
Motherfucker, smoke more than Chris Tucker, in Friday
When he treated Worm like a sucker, in three
Sell a whole key in days, the way I know the crack game'll have you

In the ill days, yo I drink Lectaid, Jose is sayin chulo, like
South side lost royal and royal, grand in Ohio, Cincinnati, Minnesoto
Yo from Philly to Connecticut, got settin in, all predicate
Like rap game is pregnant, N-O-R-E, Nore
Stand for Niggaz On the Run Eatin, no matter if they still
The object of the game is to stay leavin, hit me on the Nokio
Let me know if you still breathin, top grenade, ice it up, cop pies, it
up
You really you nice enough, fuck around wit Trice Allah
seekin scrolls until your world fall in, to my niggaz gettin they props
Where they supposed to've been, rush, take your time
The best come to those who wait, like Heinz, they be ketchup and spoil
keg
Aiyyo I-95, wit my niggaz lost faith, wha!

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

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

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

Mad dime, but never could fit the of his wife
You could tell by the finger nails, clean, hair diced up, every days
A weekly routine, where he lived, stay out the hood, fuck a nigga say
Out for blood, but yo, lustin the dough, he see snake for way
In the garden 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 though his name is Nas, god body, and wide body, rumble for
To the S-Class, six niggaz, double your size, come wit a plan
To make it happen, sellin weight or rappin, we still trapped in a slave

And keep the crackers
(That's what this life to)