Tekstovi: Noreaga. Bloody Money Pt. 2.

intro: Noreaga talking

[Noreaga]

Yo, New Orleans, LA, Va to Queens, I-95, where we never drive clean
But good, gotta get out the hood, to really make it, now we kick it
Until our whole team'll take it to another level, another Rolie wit
Another bezel, like war against God against another devil
Sustainin, now we rim Moschino, niggaz say we taped it, switched it
Now it's Cristal, instead of Mistic, Jose, catch me wit a pigeon and
A gold biscuit, gettin mad lifted, let me find out, it's sellin dimes
Out my crack house, yeah that's crashed out, let me catch that
Just like Stackhouse, kick ya back out, have you mad vexed
Like you did your whole bid, but didn't max out, yo Jose is
In other words courageous, from South Carolina to D.C.
Yo the NC in Atlanta like Montana, comin out the airport wit the hammer
Motherfucker, smoke more weed than Chris Tucker, in Friday
When he treated Worm like a sucker, in three ways
Sell a whole key in three days, the way I know the crack game'll have you
amazed
In the ill days, yo I drink Lectaid, Jose is sayin chulo, like Menegay
South side lost royal and royal, grand royale in Ohio, Cincinnati, Minnesoto
Yo from Philly to Connecticut, got niggaz settin in, all predicate
Like this rap game is pregnant, N-O-R-E, Nore
Stand for Niggaz On the Run Eatin, no matter if they still treatin
The object of the game is just to stay leavin, hit me on the Nokio
Let me know if you still breathin, top grenade, ice it up, cop pies, slice it
up
You really think you nice enough, fuck around wit Trice Allah
Even seekin scrolls until your world fall in, to my niggaz gettin they props
Where they supposed to've been, don't rush, take your time
The best come to those who wait, like Heinz, they be ketchup and spoil your
keg
Aiyyo it's I-95, wit my niggaz lost faith, wha!

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

[Nature]


Aiyyo, eatin from the same plate, and drinkin from the same cup
Whoever thought that some much would have to change
I went to games as a Knicks fan, they had Strickland, they traded him
Ever 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 shirts
Feinds on the block know me for holdin b's work
Seein chips poppin up in European whips, exceed the speed limit
Tinted up and weed scented, treatin life like the auto bomb, never slow up
I'm gettin head for being young and vulger, fly gifted
Y'all 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 some different shit
Switch directions, my bad, quick disception
My first love is for bloody money so skip the extras

Chorus

[Nas]

Now what's a don?, a nigga that's a thug wit a charm, always on point
As soon as he's on, his goons'll respond, he move right and fear losin his
life
Mad dime, but never could fit the shoes of his wife
You could 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 nigga say
Out for blood, but yo, lustin the dough, he see snake smile for way
In the same garden he play, but a true don'll get his proper groove on
He tell the truth even when he lies, give you a fake name
Even though his name is Nas, god body, and wide body, rumble for five
To the S-Class, six niggaz, double your size, either come wit a plan
To make it happen, 'cause sellin weight or rappin, we still trapped in a slave
mine
And keep the crackers laughin
(That's what this life lead to)
Chorus