Luyện nghe bài hát Tore Up

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

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

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

Uh, Yeah we ain't as young as we was.
Back I had no tattoos, no ID to get in clubs.
We walked lookin' at the
lights and night life that we seen.
Breathing in those fumes from busses sittin' on 2nd ave.
Trying to sneak into the where
all the big boys used to around.
I was 130 pounds soakin wet but I felt like when you was around.
A long way from those county
and a taste of that city life.
Sweet smell of that Daniel's on cigarette smoke and neon lights.
With L tracks in the background comin' a country cover band and
a homeless lady on a street
it when she plays that violin.
Johnny and June on them alley walls that we slapped up way back
We didn't know shit of our life
6 months in havin' our license.
And If these words polaroids these pictures would be priceless.
These up in my head keep replaying 'cause their timeless.
So whenever you up on the town

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

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

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

Uh, Yeah not as as we was right.
Now been kicked out of every bar
except the one I'm in tonight.
I had 12 drinks and 2 shots
now I'm in the back alley pot.
Put a stone cold into a fist
with some jockey who get roughed up.
But it's all good that Jack Daniel's got me fucked up always.
I'm gonna leave this thing on
it lookin' like I a saw blade.
Got on my white suede,
car parked on broadway no pretty in the
'cause the dumb choices that I made.
I the Chevy it's always her so

I'm through them sound waves.
One bullet in that pistol Smith and Wesson come the pain away
I talk to my drunk and tell my sober self I can't take me
so I pull the gun on my other half why you always blamin' me

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