Luyện nghe bài hát Crybaby

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

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

If it's negative, I don't hear it
eliminating player haters with evil spirits

I em talkin, they mad at Smurf and Souljah Boy
They big in the magazine, and dont even know the boys
I know the ploy, washed up rappers wanna people
Run up to the car, out the mac lethal
Man that's a problem with the black now
What ya need to know is that, in the world there's a lot of to stack
And the ones that wanna hold us back ain't outside they cul-de-sac
Every nigga I know is strapped, rip that'll blow ya back
But that, I can put it right down to where the shoulders at
Hating on the south? Why? Trippin off them they got
You don't like that it's screwed and
but you wanna get off in pot
be MC you talk a lot, up in the spot and you hot
Cause they be poking out
the hell is you cryin bout?
Everybody wanna be but not for reala
bout the method of making 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
When I was broke, homie I for mills
Got on the mic the intent to kill
Stronger than ever, and you a for real
I drink caribou lou, and you drink CHUMP

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

You should be when folk make it up outta the ghetto
or trailer park, it matter even if he black or if he guerro
but, you don't how to be male
instead of a Timberland, you probably in a
better yet in a baby shoe, or maybe you
sick of me I'm making dinero
and you wanna get clapped at
you want a ovation? I thought 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 infra-red right at your soft spot
if you was on TV and you wouldn't groan and trip
he'd keep hatred, envy, and on his lip
got long cream with chrome things on his whip
?? with a chrome on his hip
but know your hip will not stop the hop
cause you look at the big picture, my block pops alot daily
so keep on my clock stops the shots
and I can quickly you in your Osh Kosh B'Gosh, baby

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