Luyện nghe bài hát Crybaby

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

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

If it's negative, I wanna hear it
eliminating player haters with evil spirits

I hear em talkin, mad at Smurf and Souljah Boy
They hating big in the magazine, and dont know the boys
I know the ploy, washed up rappers attack people
Run up to the car, out the mac lethal
Man that's a with 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 ain't been outside they cul-de-sac
Every nigga I know is strapped, rip shows that'll blow ya
But notice that, I can put it right to where the shoulders at
Hating on the south? Trippin off them chips they got
You don't like that screwed and chopped
but you get off in they pot
be MC you talk a lot, up in the spot and you hot
Cause they be poking out
What the hell is you cryin
Everybody be killa but not for reala
bout the method of money you gotta get the milla
by doin it like I do it do the work and in it
when you do it to the aint no problem 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 drink caribou lou, and you drink enfamil

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

You be clapping when folk make it up outta the ghetto
or trailer park, it don't matter even if he black or if he
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
sick of me cause I'm making
and you wanna get clapped at
you a standing ovation? I thought not!
you say you than rappers on radio, man that's false chop
try to run up on me, cause a benzo will be in your car slot
try to step up on the scene, my infra-red beam's 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 chrome on his hip
but just know your hip not stop the hop
cause when you at the big picture, my block pops alot daily
so keep on thinking my clock stops the
and I can quickly bury you in your Osh Kosh B'Gosh,

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?)