Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma this one, real rap
this 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 up where them people called them people on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' like the videos a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like they cement on us
Ghetto still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White still spittin' on us
And them ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's 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 than this rappin' my
But now all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it happen
So play the captain, sail boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we seen him was when hated
Found his body like a month later, in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his is a princess
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 feel like my heart just stopped the
My nigga Lil' Derrick is to cop a key
Either that or the gat and go pop a G
And of that he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his family and his fine
So much shit just sit on mind of mine
I about it all the time
I about it all the time
I back to back
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, boy dead
Man you woulda thought they killed Corn
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to with 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, like a fuckin' iPod
and they tried to burn my Phantom 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 will summer
'Cause if they don't 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 hustle 'till his heart
And all I know 'bout my real pops is that he had
No bank account, that paper bag money
Yeah he hit me off wit a little brag money
But the nigga wouldn't be a dad for me
But look how I 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 make sure she paid like she for me
And I she gets all hope 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 it's as far as the sees
You are listenin' to the Weezy F. Baby