Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
call this one, real rap
Because this rap is real, ya
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
we slangin', but we just got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got insomnia
Livin' like the videos write a on us
Stuck in the hood they poured cement on us
birds still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, still gettin' on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I well, Beezy roll a L
ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way wit my nigga
But I know that's how it my nigga
is much deeper than this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma the captain, sail 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 when Katrina
Found his body 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
This shit is harder 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 just the beat
My Lil' Derrick is quick 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 his family and his mama's fine
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I think it all the time
I drink about it all the
I back 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 shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, boy dead
Man you woulda they killed Corn Bread
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had clothes on
And the goes on
But nobody do nothin' it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And at an all time high
Everybody gotta hate, just like a fuckin'
Shit and tried to burn my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm to shoot like a camera
still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, 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 'bout my pops is that he had money
No bank account, that brown bag money
he might hit me off wit a little brag money
But the nigga still be a dad for me
But look how I turned out I hope he for me
But that's why I see him I acts mad funny,
'Cause a joke to me
Don't message, don't call, 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 all hope for me
And I don't want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but there 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