Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call one, real rap
this rap is real, ya know?
I hope you ain't too to cry
And I hope you know you ain't 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 insomnia
Livin' the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like they cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government quittin' on us
a few homies and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White still spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth still on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know that's how it happened my
Shit is much deeper than this my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat flappin' my
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil'
'Cause even though we couldn't, The saved him
Last time we seen him was Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, rest in 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 a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma keep on pumpin' the
So if I cry don't the beat
I feel like my heart just the beat
My nigga Lil' 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 pray his family and his fine
So much shit just sit on mind of mine
I think about it all the
I drink about it all the
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 dreams of the man

And a man with a badge
'Cause he ain't to a man on the edge
The killed Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought they Corn Bread
Shot 'em up face down on the
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to they had plain clothes on
And the goes on
But nobody do nothin' it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And at an all time high
Everybody gotta hate, 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 a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to write my this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma 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 heart
And all I 'bout my real pops is that he had money
No bank account, that paper bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little money
But the nigga still 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 he's a to me
Don't message, don't call, talk to me
It's me and my mama 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 to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but there is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the future F. Baby