Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma this one, real rap
Because rap is real, ya know?
I hope you too tired 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 we got sleep insomnia
Livin' like the videos a treatment on us
Stuck in the like they poured cement on us
Ghetto still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White folks still on us
And them bitch ass canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, still gettin' on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I remember well, roll a L
ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know that's how it my nigga
is much deeper than this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I make it happen
So play the captain, sail boat flappin' my nigga
No I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The Lord him
Last time we him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a later, rest in peace boy
He was a boy, and so was Wesy West
He was a good nigga, so I he blessed
And his daughter is a
This is harder than a bench press
But I'mma goin', and I swear 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 the beat
My nigga Lil' is quick to cop a key
Either that or the gat and go pop a G
And of that he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I his family and his mama's fine
So much just sit on this mind of mine
I about it all the time
I about it all the time
I back to back
'Cause if my got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, God I had dreams of being the man

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

And you can put that on my late
Or my grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my Larry Bosock
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real is that he had money
No bank account, that brown bag money
Yeah he hit me off wit a little brag money
But the still 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, call, don't talk to me
It's just me and my mama how it's to be
And I make sure she 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 it's as far as the future sees
You are to the future Weezy F. Baby