Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

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

I grew up where them called them people on us
Think we slangin', but we just got on us
Grindin' all day like we got insomnia
Livin' the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the like they poured cement on us
birds still 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
folks still spittin' on us
And bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the still hittin' on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I that's how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma play the captain, boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my Lil' Tiggas
'Cause though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a boy, and so was Wesy West
He was a good nigga, so I he blessed
And his is a princess
This shit is harder a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I feel like my heart just the beat
My Lil' Derrick is quick to cop a key
that or load the gat and go pop a G
And of that he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his and his mama's fine
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I think it all the time
I drink about it all the
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
'Cause he shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, boy dead
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 do nothin' 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too crowded
And haters at an all high
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 shoot like a
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to write my this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma kill summer

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