Luyện nghe bài hát Crybaby

I was born in 71' in City, MO
my momma was a heavenly one, so the fam was pretty
when it came to rap and R&B and more
check it, if it on gospel, apostle
or written in the Bible, it go
So when they tell the baby don't do something then I end up it anyway
like, don't listen to rap, it's the evil music of
but, I really fell in love with the sound that was out form the East Coast
So we got it and it up a bit, now the industry's having a heatstroke
say that rap is dead, but when I get the white, black, and red
and on the tour bus, do 58 shows, then I'm back with a big black sack of bread
Can't believe that that was said, cause I'm with a stack of fed
and I got it rap/hip-hop or whatever and I did not have to beg
So, I stand, the mic in hand with my rap attire
and I my fans spending grands cause we got the fire
I merchandise like 5 G's every an hour
and you cry a baby so your mic must be your pacifier

When I read the magazine, them sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Crybaby)
I see them on the TV, them rapper's sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Whatcha bout?)

If it's negative, I don't hear it
player haters with their evil spirits

I hear em talkin, mad at Smurf and Souljah Boy
hating big in the magazine, and dont even know the boys
I the ploy, washed up rappers wanna attack people
Run up to the car, pull out the mac
Man that's a problem with the black now
What ya need to know is that, in the world there's a lot of to stack
And the ones that wanna hold us back ain't been they cul-de-sac
Every nigga I know is strapped, rip that'll blow ya back
But notice that, I can put it down to where the shoulders at
Hating on the south? Why? Trippin off chips they got
You don't like it's screwed and chopped
but you wanna get off in pot
Wanna be MC you a lot, up in the spot and you hot
Cause they be poking out
What the hell is you bout?
Everybody wanna be killa but not for
the method of making money you gotta get the milla
by doin it like I do it do the work and in it
you do it to the fullest aint no problem achieving it
When I was broke, homie I for mills
Got on the mic the intent to kill
Stronger than ever, and you a for real
I drink caribou lou, and you drink enfamil

When I read the magazine, them sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Crybaby)
When I see them on the TV, rapper's sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Whatcha bout?)

You should be clapping when make it up outta the ghetto
or park, it don't matter even if he black or if he guerro
but, you don't know how to be
instead of a Timberland, you probably in a
better yet in a baby shoe, or maybe you
sick of me cause I'm dinero
and you dont wanna get at
you want a standing ovation? I not!
you say you better rappers on radio, man that's false chop
try to run up on me, cause a benzo will never be in your car
try to step up on the scene, my infra-red beam's right at your soft
if you was on TV and balling you wouldn't groan and
he'd hatred, envy, and bloodshed on his lip
Tech got cream with chrome things on his whip
?? with a chrome on his hip
but just know your hip not stop the hop
cause when you look at the big picture, my block pops daily
so keep on thinking my stops the shots
and I can bury you in your Osh Kosh B'Gosh, baby

When I read the magazine, rapper's sounding like
WAH WAH WAH (Crybaby)
When I see them on the TV, them rapper's like
WAH WAH WAH (Whatcha bout?)