Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma this one, real rap
this rap is real, ya know?
I you ain't too tired to cry
And I hope you know you ain't too live to die

I grew up where them people them people on us
Think we slangin', but we just got on us
all day like we got sleep insomnia
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
Stuck in the like they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the grief still on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them 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. Where's at? Beezy got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know 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 flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil'
even though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder than a press
But I'mma goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I feel like my heart stopped the beat
My nigga Lil' is quick to cop a key
Either that or the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's just a name in a of mine
I pray his family and his fine
So much shit just sit on this of mine
I about it all the time
I drink it all the time
I smoke back to
if my thoughts got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had dreams of the man

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

And you can put that on my late
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Mercedes
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man hustle 'till his stopped
And all I know 'bout my real pops is that he had
No account, that brown paper bag money
he might 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 that's why I see him I acts mad funny,
'Cause a joke to me
Don't message, don't call, talk to me
just me and my mama how it's suppose to be
And I sure she paid like she rode for me
And I she gets all hope for me
And I don't ever to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but truthfully there is a day due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the future
You are to the future Weezy F. Baby