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 never too live to die

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

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

And you can put on my late father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man 'till his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my pops is that he had money
No bank account, that paper bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a brag money
But the nigga still be a dad for me
But how I turned out I hope he glad for me
But that's why I see him I acts 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 she paid like she rode for me
And I she gets all hope for me
And I ever want 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 Weezy F.