Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call 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 we got sleep insomnia
like the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government still on us
a few homies and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White folks still on us
And bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I know how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this rappin' my
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma the captain, sail boat flappin' my nigga
No I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The saved him
Last time we seen him was when hated
Found his body a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is than a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma keep on pumpin' the
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel like my heart just the beat
My nigga Derrick is quick 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 his family and his mama's fine
So much shit sit on this mind of mine
I think it all the time
I about it all the time
I back to back
'Cause if my 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 a man with a badge
he ain't shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda thought they Corn Bread
Shot 'em up down on the lawn
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
Everybody gotta hate, just like a fuckin'
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 have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma kill this

And you can put that on my late
Or my grandmother, Ms. Mercedes 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 little money
But the still 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,
'Cause a joke 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 make sure she like 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 pray it's as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the future F. Baby