Luyện nghe bài hát Crybaby

I was born in 71' in City, MO
my momma was a one, so the fam was pretty slow
when it came to rap and R&B and plenty
it, if it wasn't on gospel, apostle
or written in the Bible, it go
So when they tell the baby don't do something then I end up doing it
like, don't listen to rap, it's the music of today
but, I really fell in love with the that was coming out form the East Coast
So we got it and twisted it up a bit, now the industry's a heatstroke
say that rap is dead, but when I get the white, black, and red
and jump on the tour bus, do 58 shows, then I'm back with a big black sack of
Can't believe that was said, cause I'm here with a stack of fed
and I got it from rap/hip-hop or and I did not have to beg
So, here I stand, the mic in hand with my rap
and I like my fans spending grands we got the fire
I like 5 G's every half an hour
and you cry like a baby so your mic be your pacifier

I read the magazine, them rapper's sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Crybaby)
When I see them on the TV, rapper's sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Whatcha bout?)

If negative, I don't wanna hear it
player haters with their evil spirits

I hear em talkin, they mad at and Souljah Boy
They hating big in the magazine, and dont even know the
I know the ploy, washed up rappers wanna attack
Run up to the car, pull out the mac
Man that's a problem the black people now
What ya need to know is that, in the world there's a lot of dough to
And the ones that wanna hold us back ain't been they cul-de-sac
Every nigga I is strapped, rip shows that'll blow ya back
But notice that, I can put it right down to the shoulders at
Hating on the south? Why? off them chips they got
You don't like it's screwed and chopped
but you wanna get off in pot
Wanna be MC you a lot, up in the spot and you hot
Cause 84's be poking out
What the hell is you cryin
Everybody be killa but not for reala
the method of making money you gotta get the milla
by doin it like I do it do the and believe in it
when you do it to the fullest aint no achieving it
I was broke, homie I went for mills
Got on the mic with the to kill
than ever, and you a gimp for real
I caribou lou, and you drink enfamil CHUMP

When I read the magazine, them sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Crybaby)
I see them on the TV, them rapper's sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Whatcha bout?)

You be clapping when folk make it up outta the ghetto
or park, it don't matter even if he black or if he guerro
but, you don't know how to be
of a Timberland, you probably in a stilletto
better yet in a baby shoe, or maybe you
of me cause I'm making dinero
and you dont get clapped at
you want a standing ovation? I not!
you say you better than rappers on radio, man false chop
try to run up on me, cause a will never be in your car slot
try to step up on the scene, my beam's right at your soft spot
if you was on TV and you wouldn't groan and trip
he'd hatred, envy, and bloodshed on his lip
Tech got cream with chrome things on his whip
?? with a thing on his hip
but just know hip will not stop the hop
cause when you at the big picture, my block pops alot daily
so keep on my clock stops the shots
and I can quickly bury you in your Osh B'Gosh, baby

When I the magazine, them rapper's sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Crybaby)
When I see them on the TV, them sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Whatcha bout?)