14. DJ Khaled Ft Ace Hood, Brisco, Rick Ross & Birdman - Blood Money

Текст песни dj rell & trap-a-holics - 14. DJ Khaled Ft Ace Hood, Brisco, Rick Ross & Birdman - Blood Money

[Intro: Brisco]
Ha, yeah, Triple C, CMB nigga
Poe Boy, Boss, what it is nigga?
Birdman what up? (ACE HOOD~!)
The goons to be king, how you love that pussy nigga?
Yeah... Blood money

[Brisco]
The definition: I'm clutchin' on my slippin in
The way I'm feelin' right now, a bitch could get the business
Just know my niggas squeeze on side
Only problem is we doin this head knock
I told Ross, "we gon show em how the Gutta do"
All black skis, black ones and the jumpsuit
Silde in the silder in and out night vision
Scopes on the AR to hit em with precision
And did I mention this one here’s for the thugs dummy
A little drugs bunny; we did it off of blood money
More pieces of Crown Vic surround us
We runnin up on niggas, they jumpin off of counters
One time for my allies
I’m a poe boy that like my guns, supersize
CMB what it is
I’m cookin up them ki's

[Hook: Rick Ross]
I’m countin blood money
Ain’t mad cause I love money, came up gettin' drug money
We countin blood money
Ain’t mad cause I love money, came up gettin' drug money
We talkin drug money, we talkin blood money
We talkin blood money, straight blood money
We talkin drug money, it's drug money
It’s drug money, drug money
[Ace Hood]
Okay we getting from us servin weight, get it cause we servin yay
See the way we get the cake, like everyday's a boring day
Blood money, and I’ma count it till they come for me
The feds hate it, they mistakin me for Blanco Buddies
I’m puttin blood, sweat and tears for this cash money
I’m talkin crooked unidentified bags of it
I’m talkin yellow table paper; put the tags on it
You play with mine, bet I turn you into crash dummies
Better not need heaters, I spit them shells like the beatles
I have my people go see you, I squash you out like a cheater nigga
I'm for that drug money underneath the rug money
My niggas love money, yeah, I’m talking blood money

[Hook]

[Rick Ross]
Hammers in the Hummers, sticks in the lids
Sweets in the trunk, streets gimmie sneers
Money comin fast, blood comin slow
Who dem boys with the H? Feds wanna know
Gators on thief, neighbors gon sleep
You dealin with a G, and the haters gon see Boss
I’m in the dealership with a duffle bag
Couple Masaradis, couple hundred stacks
Far from peaches and cream, niggas deceased on the scene
I’m just countin my green, chillin', sippin’ my lean
Keep investigatin cause you got a job
Better keep your vest on bitch cause we got a mob
[Hook]

[Birdman]
Well I’m the mob chief, given orders, callin' all the shots out
Make a nigga understand: we gangstas, we don’t play out
Came from under the sand, lift my own weight up
Bought a house off the curb, was patient so it paid up
No pleasure and pain homie, just the price for the flight
Don’t get’cha head chopped fuckin' with them five stripes
Eagle land it went south, now we got the cake
Paper plate money, every time I hitch a state
High on this pressure life, famous from the mud
Got the game from some old heads, I took it up in Blood
Yeah the only price nigga is a price
A mill on some whips, a hundred on ya life

[Hook]

[Outro: Birdman]
Yeah... The big things
100... Big dog status, CMB nigga
Poe Boy, yeah, 100
Yeah, bitch, holla back