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, gotta get out the hood, to really it, now we kick it
Until our whole team'll take it to another level, another wit
Another bezel, like war against God another devil
Sustainin, now we rim Moschino, say we taped it, switched it
Now Cristal, instead 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, yeah that's crashed out, let me that
Just like Stackhouse, kick ya back out, you mad vexed
Like you did your bid, but didn't max out, yo Jose is
In other courageous, from South Carolina to D.C.
Yo the NC in Atlanta like Montana, out the airport wit the hammer
Motherfucker, smoke more weed than Tucker, in Friday
When he treated like a sucker, in three ways
Sell a whole key in 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 royal and royal, grand royale in Ohio, Cincinnati, Minnesoto
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 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 think you nice enough, fuck around wit Trice Allah
Even seekin scrolls until your world fall in, to my niggaz they props
Where supposed to've been, don't rush, take your time
The best come to those who wait, like Heinz, they be ketchup and 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 bleed to)
Blood money (That's we smoke weed to)
Blood money (That's how my eat to)

Aiyyo, from the same plate, and drinkin from the same cup
Whoever thought that some much have to change
I to games as a Knicks fan, they had Strickland, they traded him
since then, son, I hated them, shit's turnin sour in the N-Y
Half the team hurt, still niggaz get high and rock Queens
Feinds on the know me for holdin b's work
Seein chips poppin up in whips, exceed the speed limit
up and weed scented, treatin life like the auto bomb, never slow up
I'm gettin for being young and vulger, fly gifted
niggaz die over bitch 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, quick
My love is for bloody money so skip the extras

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

Mad dime, but never could fit the shoes of his
You could tell by the finger nails, clean, hair up, every four 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 smile for way
In the same garden he play, but a true don'll get his proper 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, your size, either come wit a plan
To it happen, 'cause sellin weight or rappin, we still trapped in a slave

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