Luyện nghe bài hát Bloody Money Pt. 2

intro: Noreaga

Yo, New Orleans, LA, Va to Queens, I-95, where we 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, Rolie 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, it's dimes
Out my crack house, yeah that's out, let me catch that
Just like Stackhouse, ya back out, have you mad vexed
Like you did your whole bid, but didn't max out, yo is
In other courageous, from South Carolina to D.C.
Yo the NC in like Montana, comin out the airport wit the hammer
Motherfucker, more weed than Chris Tucker, in Friday
When he treated Worm like a sucker, in three
Sell a whole key in three days, the way I know the crack have you

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

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

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

Now what's a don?, a nigga that's a thug wit a charm, 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 shoes of his
You could tell by the nails, clean, hair diced up, every four days
A weekly routine, he lived, stay out the hood, fuck what a nigga say
Out for blood, but yo, the dough, he see snake smile for way
In the same garden he play, but a 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, either come wit a
To it happen, 'cause sellin weight or rappin, we still trapped in a slave

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