Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call this one, rap
Because rap is real, ya know?
I you ain't too tired to cry
And I hope you know you ain't 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
like the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like poured cement on us
birds still shittin' 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 bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the still hittin' on us
I well, Beezy 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 that's how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat flappin' my
No I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
'Cause though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, rest in boy
He was a East boy, and so was Wesy
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder a bench press
But keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart just 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 he's just a in a rhyme of mine
I pray his and his mama's fine
So much shit sit on this mind of mine
I about it all the time
I about it all the time
I smoke 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 dreams of the man

And fuck a man 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 complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too fuckin'
And haters at an all time
Everybody gotta hate, just like a fuckin'
Shit and they to burn my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to shoot 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 grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my Larry Bosock
The old man 'till his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my pops is that he had money
No bank account, that brown paper bag
Yeah he hit me off wit a little brag money
But the nigga still 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,
he's a joke to me
Don't message, call, don't talk to me
It's just me and my mama how 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 is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the future
You are to the future Weezy F. Baby