Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

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

I grew up them people called them people on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
Grindin' all day we got sleep insomnia
Livin' like the videos a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like poured cement on us
Ghetto birds still shittin' on us, government 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, still gettin' on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy ain't here. Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my
But I know that's how it my nigga
Shit is much than this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it
So play the captain, sail boat flappin' 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 Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a good nigga, so I know he
And his is a princess
This is harder 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 stopped the beat
My nigga Lil' 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 of mine
I pray his family and his fine
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I think about it all the
I about it all the time
I back to back
'Cause if my thoughts got to me I'd be in rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had of being the man

And fuck a man a badge
'Cause he ain't shit to a man on the
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you thought they killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up face on the lawn
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to mention had plain clothes on
And the goes on
But nobody do nothin' it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And at an all time high
gotta hate, just like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they tried to my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm to shoot like a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma this summer

And you can put that on my late
Or my grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my Larry Bosock
The old man hustle his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my 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 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 sure she paid like she rode for me
And I she gets 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 F. Baby