Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma this one, real rap
Because 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 where them people called them on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' like the videos a treatment on us
in the hood like they poured cement on us
Ghetto still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks still 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 well, Beezy roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I know that's how it happened my
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, boat 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 seen him was Katrina hated
his body 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 shit is harder than a bench
But I'mma goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry don't the beat
I feel like my heart stopped the beat
My nigga Derrick is quick to cop a key
that or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's a name in a rhyme of mine
I his family and his mama's fine
So much just sit on this mind of mine
I think it all the time
I about it all the time
I back to back
'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
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had clothes on
And the goes on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And at an all time high
gotta 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 shoot like a
Stay still mothafucka I'mma to write my will this summer
if they don't kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my late
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Larry
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real pops is that he had
No bank account, that brown 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 out I hope he glad 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
It's just me and my mama how it's to be
And I make sure she like she rode for me
And I know she all hope for me
And I don't want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but there is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the future
You are listenin' to the future Weezy F.