Luyện nghe bài hát Bloody Money Pt. 2

intro: Noreaga

Yo, New Orleans, LA, Va to Queens, I-95, where we never clean
But good, gotta get out the hood, to really make it, now we it
Until our whole take it to another level, another Rolie wit
Another bezel, like war God against another devil
Sustainin, now we rim Moschino, say we taped it, switched it
Now it's Cristal, instead of Mistic, Jose, catch me wit a and
A gold biscuit, gettin mad lifted, let me find out, sellin dimes
Out my house, yeah that's crashed out, let me catch that
Just like Stackhouse, kick ya out, have you mad vexed
Like you did your bid, but didn't max out, yo Jose is
In other words courageous, from Carolina to D.C.
Yo the NC in Atlanta like Montana, comin out the airport wit the
Motherfucker, smoke 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 game'll 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 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 is just 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 think you nice enough, around wit Trice Allah
Even seekin scrolls until your world fall in, to my niggaz gettin they
Where they supposed to've been, don't rush, take time
The best to those who wait, like Heinz, they be ketchup and spoil your
keg
it's I-95, wit my niggaz lost faith, wha!

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

Aiyyo, eatin from the same plate, and from the same cup
Whoever thought that some much would have to
I went to games as a Knicks fan, they had Strickland, traded him
Ever since then, son, I hated them, shit's sour in the N-Y
Half the team hurt, still niggaz get high and Queens shirts
Feinds on the block know me for b's work
Seein chips up in European whips, exceed the speed limit
Tinted up and weed scented, treatin life like the auto bomb, never 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
Rik Smits, born hypocrit, every now and then be on some different shit
Switch directions, my bad, disception
My first 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 snake for way
In the garden he play, but a true don'll get his proper groove on
He tell the even when 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 size, either come wit a plan
To make it happen, 'cause weight or rappin, we still trapped in a slave

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