Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call this one, rap
Because this rap is real, ya
I hope you too tired to cry
And I you know you ain't never too live to die

I grew up where them people called them on us
Think we slangin', but we just got on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, still quittin' on us
Lost a few and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got names writtin' on us
folks still spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth grittin' on us
But we smoke, still gettin' on us
All the still hittin' on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I know that's how it my nigga
Shit is much deeper this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma play the captain, boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my Lil' Tiggas
'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 know he
And his daughter is a
This is harder than a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I like my heart just stopped the beat
My Lil' Derrick 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 rhyme of
I pray his family and his fine
So much just sit on this mind of mine
I think it all the time
I about 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, God I had dreams of being the man

And a man with a badge
'Cause he shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda thought they killed Bread
Shot 'em up face down on the
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all high
Everybody hate, just 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 like a camera
still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my late
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Mercedes
Or my grandfather Larry
The old man hustle 'till his stopped
And all I know my real pops is that he had money
No bank account, that brown bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little brag
But the nigga wouldn't be a dad for me
But how I turned out I hope he glad for me
But why when I see him I acts mad funny,
'Cause he's a to me
Don't message, call, don't talk to me
It's just me and my mama how it's to be
And I make sure she paid like she 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 it's as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the future Weezy F.