Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call one, real rap
this rap is real, ya know?
I you ain't too tired 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 just got on us
Grindin' all day like we got insomnia
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
in the hood like they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government still on us
Lost a few and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth still 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? got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I that's how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this my nigga
But now all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it happen
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Tiggas
'Cause even we couldn't, The Lord saved him
time we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was Wesy
He was a good nigga, so I he blessed
And his is a princess
shit is harder than a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a in my throat
But I'mma on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I feel like my just stopped the beat
My Lil' Derrick is quick to cop a key
that or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his and his mama's fine
So much shit sit on this mind of mine
I think it all the time
I drink it all the time
I smoke back to
'Cause if my got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had of being the man

And fuck a man a badge
'Cause he shit to a man on the edge
The five-o Naughty, good boy dead
Man you thought they killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up face on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to mention had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But nobody do nothin' it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too crowded
And haters at an all time
gotta hate, just like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they tried to my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to shoot like a
still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't me, I'mma kill this summer

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