Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma this one, real rap
Because rap is real, ya know?
I hope you ain't too to cry
And I hope you know you ain't never too to die

I grew up where them people called them on us
we slangin', but we just got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government still on us
Lost a few homies and the grief sittin' on us
So we got names writtin' on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I that's how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper than rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma play the captain, boat flappin' my nigga
No I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
even though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we him was when Katrina hated
Found his like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a good nigga, so I he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder than a bench
But I'mma keep goin', and I I got a lump in my throat
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart stopped the beat
My nigga Lil' Derrick is to cop a key
Either that or the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his and his mama's fine
So much shit just sit on mind of mine
I about it all the time
I drink about it all the
I smoke to back
'Cause if my got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had dreams of the man

And fuck a man a badge
'Cause he ain't to a man on the edge
The five-o Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought they killed Bread
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to mention with his on
Not to they had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
Everybody gotta hate, like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they tried to my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm to shoot like a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to write my this summer
if they don't kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Larry
The old man hustle 'till his heart
And all I know my real pops is that he had money
No bank account, that brown bag money
Yeah he hit me off wit a little brag money
But the still wouldn't be a dad for me
But look how I turned out I he glad for me
But that's why when I see him I mad funny,
'Cause he's a to me
message, don't call, don't talk to me
It's just me and my how it's suppose to be
And I make sure she paid like she for me
And I know she gets all for me
And I don't want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but there is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the sees
You are to the future Weezy F. Baby