Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
call this one, real rap
Because this rap is real, ya
I hope you ain't too to cry
And I hope you you ain't never too live to die

I grew up them people called them people on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' like the videos write a on us
in the hood like they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government still on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got names writtin' on us
White folks spittin' on us
And bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the still hittin' on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know that's how it happened my
is much deeper than this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil'
'Cause even though we couldn't, The Lord him
Last time we seen him was when Katrina
Found his body like a month later, rest in boy
He was a East boy, and so was Wesy
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
shit is harder than a bench press
But keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma keep on the flow
So if I cry don't the beat
I feel like my heart just the beat
My nigga Derrick is quick to cop a key
Either or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I his family and his mama's fine
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I about it all the time
I about it all the time
I smoke to back
if my thoughts got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, God I had dreams of being the man

And fuck a man a badge
'Cause he ain't to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda they killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up face down on the
Not to mention with his on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the complaint on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
Everybody hate, just like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and tried to burn my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to shoot a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this
'Cause if they kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Larry
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I know my real pops is that he had money
No account, that brown paper bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little brag
But the nigga still be a dad for me
But look how I out I hope he glad for me
But that's why I see him I acts mad funny,
he's a joke to me
Don't message, don't call, don't to me
just me and my mama how it's suppose to be
And I make she paid like she rode for me
And I know she gets all for me
And I don't want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but truthfully is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the future
You are to the future Weezy F. Baby