Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
call this one, real rap
Because this rap is real, ya
I hope you ain't too to cry
And I hope you 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 insomnia
like the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government still on us
Lost a few homies and the grief sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I know that's how it happened my
Shit is deeper than this rappin' my nigga
But now all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it happen
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat flappin' my
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Tiggas
'Cause though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we seen him was 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 he blessed
And his is a princess
This shit is than a bench press
But keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma keep on the flow
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart just the beat
My nigga Lil' Derrick is to cop a key
that or load 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 shit just sit on this mind of mine
I think it all the time
I drink about it all the
I smoke to back
'Cause if my thoughts got to me I'd be in rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had dreams of the man

And fuck a man with a
'Cause he shit to a man on the edge
The killed Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda they killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up face on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to they had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But nobody do nothin' it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all 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 like a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to my will this summer
'Cause if they kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put on my late father
Or my grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my grandfather Larry
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I know my real pops is that he had money
No bank account, that brown paper bag
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little brag
But the nigga wouldn't 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,
he's a joke to me
Don't message, don't call, talk to me
It's just me and my how it's suppose to be
And I make sure she paid 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 there is a day due for me
But we gone it's as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the future Weezy F.