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 never too to die

I grew up where them people them people on us
Think we slangin', but we just got on us
Grindin' all day we got sleep insomnia
Livin' like the videos a treatment on us
Stuck in the like they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the grief sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
folks still spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth still on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I well, Beezy roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way wit my nigga
But I know that's how it happened my
Shit is much than this rappin' 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 Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we seen him was Katrina hated
Found his like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was Wesy
He was a good nigga, so I know he
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 my heart just stopped the beat
My nigga Lil' Derrick is to cop a key
that or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of that 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 about it all the time
I about it all the time
I back to back
if my thoughts got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, God I had dreams of being the man

And fuck a man a badge
he ain't shit to a man on the edge
The killed Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought they Corn Bread
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too crowded
And at an all time high
Everybody gotta hate, just a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they tried to burn my up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm to shoot like a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to 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 grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real is that he had money
No bank account, that paper bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a brag money
But the nigga still be a dad for me
But how I turned out I hope he glad for me
But that's why when I see him I mad funny,
he's a joke to me
Don't message, don't call, don't to me
It's me and my mama how it's suppose to be
And I make sure she paid she rode for me
And I know she 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 as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the Weezy F. Baby