Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

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

I grew up where them people them people on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
all day like we got sleep insomnia
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like they poured on us
Ghetto birds shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got names writtin' on us
folks still spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's 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 deeper this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The Lord him
Last time we seen him was Katrina hated
Found his like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was Wesy
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder than a press
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a in my throat
But I'mma keep on pumpin' the
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart stopped the beat
My nigga Derrick is quick 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 pray his and his mama's fine
So much just sit on this mind of mine
I about it all the time
I drink it all the time
I smoke back to
if my thoughts 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 ain't to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda thought they killed Bread
Shot 'em up face down on the
Not to mention with his on
Not to mention had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The and the morgue is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
Everybody gotta hate, just like a 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 mothafucka I'mma have 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 late grandmother, Ms. Mercedes
Or my grandfather Larry
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 might hit me off wit a brag money
But the nigga 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 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 there 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 Weezy F.