Luyện nghe bài hát Tore Up

The only time I see you is we're in a crowd,
you're with friends and I'm
mine, the musics bumpin' loud.
You used to be the girl that go out on the town,
Now you have crazy nights on instagram you post about
the neon smoke, on the midtown strip.
When I'm home alone, you're out with friends.

I get tore up, I still get tore about it (up about it)
I still get tore up, I still get up (about it)
I get tore up, I still get tore up about it(up about it),

I get tore up about it up about it up about it up about it

Uh, Yeah we ain't as young as we was.
Back I had no tattoos, no ID to get in clubs.
We broadway lookin' at the
lights and life that we never seen.
Breathing in those fumes from busses sittin' on 2nd ave.
Trying to sneak the spots where
all the big boys used to around.
I was 130 pounds soakin wet but I felt like Zeus you was around.
A way from those county roads
and a taste of that city life.
Sweet smell of that Jack on cigarette smoke and neon lights.
With L tracks in the background comin' from a country band and
a homeless lady on a street
it when she plays that violin.
Johnny and June on them alley that we slapped up way back when
We didn't know shit of our life
6 months in from our license.
And If these words were these pictures would be priceless.
These thoughts up in my head keep replaying their timeless.
So you ride up on the town

choose through the times we had
But the frames I'd like truth the strip our music, I feel bad.

I still get tore up, I still get tore about it (up it)

I still get up, I still get tore up (about it)
I still get tore up, I still get tore up it (up about it)
I still get up about it up about it up about it up about it

Uh, Yeah not as as we was right.
Now I've been kicked out of bar
the one I'm sitting in tonight.
I had about 12 drinks and 2
now I'm in the back smokin' pot.
Put a stone cold into a fight
with some jockey dudes who get up.
But it's all good that Jack Daniel's got me fucked up always.
I'm leave this thing on strip
it like I fought a saw blade.
Got alcohol on my suede,
car parked on no pretty lady in the
passenger 'cause the dumb that I made.
I start the Chevy it's her so

I'm through them sound waves.
One bullet in that pistol Smith and Wesson come take the away
I talk to my drunk self and tell my sober self I take me
so I pull the gun on my other like why you always blamin' me

I still get tore up, I get tore about it (up about it)
I still get tore up, I get tore up (about it)
I still get up, I still get tore up about it (up about it)
I still get up about it up
it up about it up about it