Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

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

I grew up where them people called them on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
all day like we got sleep 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 still sittin' on us
So we got names writtin' on us
White 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 well, Beezy roll a L
Beezy here. Where's Beezy at? Beezy got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know that's how it happened my
Shit is much deeper than rappin' my nigga
But now all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it happen
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat flappin' my
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Tiggas
'Cause even we couldn't, The Lord saved him
time we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, rest in 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 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 don't the beat
I feel like my heart just stopped the
My nigga Lil' is quick to cop a key
Either that or the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his family and his mama's
So much shit just sit on mind of mine
I think it all the time
I drink it all the time
I smoke to back
if my thoughts 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 fuck a man a badge
he ain't shit to a man on the edge
The five-o Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda they killed Corn Bread
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to they had plain clothes on
And the complaint on
But nobody do nothin' it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too fuckin'
And at an all time 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 to shoot like a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this
'Cause if they kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my grandfather Larry
The old man hustle 'till his stopped
And all I know 'bout my real pops is he had money
No bank account, that brown paper bag
Yeah he might hit me off wit a little 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,
'Cause a joke to me
Don't message, call, don't talk to me
It's me and my mama how it's suppose to be
And I make sure she like she rode for me
And I know she all hope for me
And I ever want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but truthfully 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 Weezy F.