Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

Yeah,
Yes
call this one, real rap
Because rap is real, ya know?
I you ain't too tired to cry
And I hope you know you ain't 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 insomnia
Livin' the videos write a treatment on us
in the hood like they poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still 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 them bitch ass canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the still hittin' on us
I well, Beezy roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I that's how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this 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 I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The saved him
Last time we him was when Katrina hated
Found his body 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 keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma keep on the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I feel like my heart just stopped the
My nigga Derrick is quick to cop a key
Either that or 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 back 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 dreams of the man

And fuck a man with a
he ain't shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda they killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up down on the lawn
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to they had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too fuckin'
And haters at an all time
Everybody gotta hate, just a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they tried to burn my up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to like a camera
Stay still I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my father
Or my grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man hustle 'till his stopped
And all I know my real pops is that he had money
No bank account, that brown paper bag
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little brag
But the nigga still be a dad for me
But look how I out I hope he glad for me
But that's why I see him I acts mad funny,
'Cause a joke to me
Don't message, don't call, talk to me
It's just me and my how it's suppose to be
And I make sure she paid like she 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 pray it's as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the future F. Baby