Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call this one, rap
this rap is real, ya know?
I you ain't too tired to cry
And I hope you know you ain't never too to die

I grew up where them called them people on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got insomnia
Livin' like the videos write a on us
Stuck in the hood like they poured on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, still quittin' on us
Lost a few and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
folks still spittin' on us
And bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, still gettin' on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I that's how it happened my nigga
is much deeper than this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it
So play the captain, sail boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The Lord him
time we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a boy, and so was Wesy West
He was a good nigga, so I he blessed
And his is a princess
This is harder than a bench press
But keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry don't the beat
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 of that 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 think about it all the
I drink about it all the
I smoke to back
'Cause if my thoughts got to me I'd be in rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had of being the man

And fuck a man with a
'Cause he ain't to a man on the edge
The killed Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought they killed Corn
Shot 'em up face down on the
Not to mention with his on
Not to mention had plain clothes on
And the goes on
But nobody do nothin' it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
Everybody hate, just like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they tried to burn my up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to like a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma this summer

And you can put that on my father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I 'bout my real pops is that he had money
No bank account, brown paper bag money
Yeah he hit me off wit a little brag money
But the nigga wouldn't be a dad for me
But look how I turned out I hope he for me
But why when I see him I acts mad funny,
'Cause a joke to me
Don't message, call, don't talk to me
It's just me and my mama how it's to be
And I make she paid like she rode for me
And I she gets all hope for me
And I don't ever want to see her 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