Luyện nghe bài hát Tore Up

The time I see you is when we're in a crowd,
you're with you're and I'm
with mine, the musics loud.
You used to be the that didn't go out on the town,
Now you have these crazy nights on you post about
After the smoke, on the midtown strip.
When I'm home alone, you're out your friends.

I still get up, I still get tore about it (up about it)
I still get up, I still get tore up (about it)
I still get up, I still get tore up about it(up about it),

I still get tore up about it up it up about it up about it

Uh, we ain't as young as we once was.
Back I had no tattoos, no ID to get in clubs.
We walked lookin' at the
lights and life that we never seen.
Breathing in those toxic fumes from sittin' on 2nd ave.
to sneak into the spots where
all the big boys to roam around.
I was 130 pounds soakin wet but I felt like Zeus you was around.
A way from those county roads
and a small taste of that life.
Sweet smell of that Jack on cigarette smoke and neon lights.
With L in the background comin' from a country cover band and
a homeless lady on a corner
it when she plays that violin.
Johnny and June on them walls that we slapped up way back when
We know shit of our life just
6 months in havin' our license.
And If these were polaroids these pictures would be priceless.
These thoughts up in my head replaying 'cause their timeless.
So you ride up on the town

choose through the times we had
But the frames I'd like truth down the strip our music, I bad.

I get tore up, I still get tore about it (up about it)

I still get up, I still get tore up (about it)
I still get tore up, I get tore up about it (up about it)
I still get tore up it up about it up about it up about it

Uh, Yeah not as as we was right.
Now I've kicked out of every bar
the one I'm sitting in tonight.
I had about 12 drinks and 2
now I'm in the back alley pot.
Put a stone cold into a fist
with some jockey who get roughed up.
But it's all good Jack Daniel's got me fucked up it's always.
I'm gonna leave this thing on
it like I fought a saw blade.
Got on my white suede,
car parked on broadway no pretty in the
'cause the dumb choices that I made.
I the Chevy it's always her so

I'm bumpin' through them waves.
One bullet in that pistol Smith and come take the pain away
I talk to my drunk self and tell my sober I can't take me
so I pull the gun on my half like why you always blamin' me

I still get up, I still get tore about it (up about it)
I get tore up, I still get tore up (about it)
I still get tore up, I still get tore up about it (up it)
I still get tore up it up
about it up it up about it