Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

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 up where them people called them people on us
we slangin', but we just got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
like the videos 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 grief still on us
So we got their names 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 still hittin' on us
I remember well, roll a L
ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way wit my nigga
But I know that's how it my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this rappin' my
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', happy for my Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we seen him was when hated
Found his body like a month later, 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 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 stop the beat
I feel like my just 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 name in a rhyme of
I pray his family and his mama's
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I about it all the time
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 a man with 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 nothin' it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too crowded
And at an all time high
Everybody hate, just like a fuckin' iPod
and they tried to burn my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to shoot like a
Stay mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if don't kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put on my late father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my Larry Bosock
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real is that he had money
No bank account, that paper bag money
Yeah he hit me off wit a little brag money
But the still wouldn't be a dad for me
But look how I out I hope he glad for me
But that's why when I see him I 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 don't want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but truthfully 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