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 really make it, now we it
Until our whole take it to another level, another Rolie wit
Another bezel, like war against God another devil
Sustainin, now we rim Moschino, say we taped it, switched it
Now it's Cristal, instead of Mistic, Jose, me wit a pigeon and
A gold biscuit, gettin mad lifted, let me find out, it's sellin
Out my crack house, that's crashed out, let me catch that
Just Stackhouse, kick ya back out, have 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 weed than Chris Tucker, in
When he Worm like a sucker, in three ways
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 lost royal and royal, grand royale in Ohio, Cincinnati, Minnesoto
Yo Philly to Connecticut, got niggaz settin in, all predicate
Like this rap is pregnant, N-O-R-E, Nore
Stand for Niggaz On the Run Eatin, no matter if they treatin
The object of the is just 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 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, don't rush, your time
The best come to those who wait, 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 this life lead to)
Blood money (That's how my niggaz to)
Blood money (That's what we 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 them, shit's turnin sour in the N-Y
Half the team hurt, niggaz get high and rock Queens shirts
Feinds on the block me for holdin b's work
Seein chips poppin up in whips, exceed the speed limit
Tinted up and weed scented, treatin like the auto bomb, never slow up
I'm gettin for being young and vulger, fly gifted
Y'all niggaz die over shit, I got some hoes in the law gettin high
Like Rik Smits, born hypocrit, 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 that's a thug wit a charm, always on
As soon as he's on, his goons'll respond, he right and fear losin his

Mad dime, but could fit the shoes of his wife
You tell by the finger nails, clean, hair diced up, every four days
A weekly routine, where he lived, stay out the hood, fuck what a say
Out for blood, but yo, the dough, he see snake smile for way
In the same garden he play, but a true don'll get his proper on
He tell the truth 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 your size, either come wit a
To it happen, 'cause sellin weight or rappin, we still trapped in a slave

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