Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call this one, rap
Because this rap is real, ya
I you ain't too tired to cry
And I hope you know you ain't never too to die

I grew up them people called them people on us
we slangin', but we just got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got insomnia
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like poured cement on us
birds still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White folks still on us
And them ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper than rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat my nigga
No I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
even though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we seen him was when Katrina
his body like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a boy, and so was Wesy West
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I 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 stopped the
My nigga Lil' Derrick is to cop a key
Either or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's just a name in a rhyme of
I pray his and his mama's fine
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I think it all the time
I drink about it all the
I smoke to back
if my thoughts 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 killed Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought they killed Corn
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to mention with his on
Not to mention they had clothes on
And the complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And at an all time high
Everybody gotta hate, like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they tried to 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 write my will this
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma this summer

And you can put on my late father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Bosock
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
he might hit me off wit a little brag money
But the nigga wouldn't be a dad for me
But how I turned 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, call, don't talk to me
It's just me and my mama how suppose to be
And I make sure she like she rode for me
And I know she gets all 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 pray it's as far as the sees
You are listenin' to the future F. Baby