Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call this one, rap
this rap is real, ya know?
I hope you ain't too to cry
And I hope you you ain't never 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 we got sleep insomnia
like the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like they cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government still on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks still on us
And bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the bitches still on us
I well, Beezy roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got
And that was my nigga, I go way wit my nigga
But I know that's how it my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this rappin' my
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat flappin' my
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The Lord him
Last we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, in peace 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 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 the flow
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel my heart just stopped the beat
My nigga Derrick is quick to cop a key
Either or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his family and his mama's
So much shit sit on this mind of mine
I think it all the time
I drink it all the time
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 of being the man

And fuck a man with a
'Cause he ain't to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda thought they killed Bread
Shot 'em up down on the lawn
Not to mention with his on
Not to mention they had clothes on
And the complaint on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The and the morgue is too fuckin' crowded
And at an all time high
Everybody hate, just like 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 write my this summer
'Cause if don't kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my late
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Mercedes
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man hustle 'till his heart
And all I know 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 how I turned out I hope he glad for me
But why when 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 how it's suppose to be
And I sure she paid like she rode for me
And I know she gets all for me
And I don't ever want to see her 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 future Weezy F.