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 know you ain't never too to die

I grew up where people 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 hood they poured cement on us
birds still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the grief sittin' on us
So we got names writtin' on us
White folks still on us
And them bitch ass police canines, still grittin' on us
But we smoke, still gettin' on us
All the still 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 happened my
Shit is much than this rappin' my nigga
But now all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it happen
So I'mma play the captain, boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil'
'Cause even though we couldn't, The saved him
time we seen him was when 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
shit is harder than a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a in my throat
But I'mma keep on the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I feel my heart just stopped the beat
My nigga Lil' Derrick is to cop a key
that or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's just a in a rhyme of mine
I his family and his mama's fine
So much shit just sit on this of mine
I think about it all the
I about it all the time
I smoke back to
'Cause if my thoughts got to me I'd be in 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 they killed Bread
Shot 'em up face on the lawn
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to mention had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too crowded
And haters at an all high
Everybody gotta hate, like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they to burn my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm to shoot like a camera
still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man 'till his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real pops is he had money
No bank account, that paper bag money
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little brag
But the nigga still be a dad for me
But look how I turned out I hope he for me
But that's why I see him I acts mad funny,
'Cause he's a to me
message, don't call, don't talk to me
It's just me and my how it's suppose to be
And I sure she paid like she rode for me
And I she gets all hope for me
And I don't want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but there is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the Weezy F. Baby