Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call 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 people called them people on us
we slangin', but we just got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood they poured cement on us
Ghetto still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
a few homies and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way wit my nigga
But I know that's how it my nigga
Shit is much deeper this rappin' my nigga
But now all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it happen
So I'mma the captain, sail boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil'
'Cause even though we couldn't, The saved him
time we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a later, rest in peace boy
He was a boy, and so was Wesy West
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This is harder than a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart stopped the beat
My nigga Lil' 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 sit on this mind 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 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 killed Corn Bread
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to mention with his on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the goes on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too crowded
And haters at an all high
Everybody gotta hate, just like a fuckin'
Shit and they tried to my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm to shoot like a camera
Stay still mothafucka have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma kill summer

And you can put that on my late
Or my grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my Larry Bosock
The old man 'till his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real is that he had money
No account, that brown paper bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little brag
But the nigga still be a dad for me
But look how I turned out I he glad for me
But that's why when I see him I mad funny,
'Cause he's a to me
Don't message, don't call, don't to me
just me and my mama how it's suppose to be
And I make sure she paid like she for me
And I know she all hope for me
And I don't ever to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but truthfully is a day that's due for me
But we gone it's as far as the future sees
You are to the future Weezy F. Baby