Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call one, real rap
Because this rap is real, ya
I hope you ain't too to cry
And I hope you know you ain't too live to die

I grew up where them called them people on us
we slangin', but we just got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' like the videos a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth still on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the still hittin' on us
I well, Beezy roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I know that's how it my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this rappin' my
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it
So I'mma play the captain, sail flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my Lil' Tiggas
'Cause though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last we seen 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 nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder a bench press
But keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma keep on pumpin' the
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart just the beat
My nigga Lil' is quick to cop a key
that or load 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 shit just sit on this mind of mine
I think about it all the
I drink about it all the
I smoke to back
if my thoughts got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had of being the man

And a man with a badge
'Cause he shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda thought they killed Corn
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to mention with his on
Not to mention had plain clothes on
And the goes on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too fuckin'
And haters at an all high
Everybody gotta hate, just 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 will this
'Cause if they 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 'till his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real is that he had money
No bank account, brown paper bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a brag money
But the nigga 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
Don't message, don't call, don't to me
It's just me and my how it's suppose to be
And I make she paid like she rode for me
And I know she gets all for me
And I don't ever to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but truthfully is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the sees
You are listenin' to the future F. Baby