Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
call this one, real rap
Because rap is real, ya know?
I hope you ain't too to cry
And I you know you ain't never too live 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 videos write a on us
Stuck in the hood they poured cement on us
Ghetto still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the grief sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks still on us
And them bitch ass police canines, still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the still hittin' on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I that's how it happened 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, boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Tiggas
'Cause even we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we seen him was when Katrina
Found his body like a month later, in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a good nigga, so I know he
And his is a princess
This shit is than a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a in my throat
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart just stopped the
My nigga Derrick is quick to cop a key
Either that or the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's just a name in a rhyme of
I pray his family and his fine
So much shit just sit on mind of mine
I think about it all the
I drink about it all the
I back 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 a man with a badge
'Cause he ain't shit to a man on the
The five-o Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up face down on the
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to they had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
Everybody gotta hate, just like a fuckin'
Shit and they tried to my Phantom 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 my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma kill summer

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