Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma 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
Think we slangin', but we just got on us
Grindin' all day like we got insomnia
Livin' the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the like they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got their names 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 well, Beezy roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know that's how it happened my
is much 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 my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my Lil' Tiggas
'Cause though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, rest in boy
He was a East boy, and so was Wesy
He was a good nigga, so I he blessed
And his is a princess
This shit is harder than a 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 don't stop the
I feel like my heart just stopped the
My nigga Lil' is quick to cop a key
Either that or the gat and go pop a G
And because of 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 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 of being the man

And fuck a man a badge
'Cause he shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, boy dead
Man you woulda they killed Corn Bread
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the complaint on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all high
Everybody hate, just like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they to burn 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 write my will this
if they don't kill me, I'mma kill this summer

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