Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call one, real rap
Because rap is real, ya know?
I you ain't too tired 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 we got sleep insomnia
Livin' like the videos write a on us
Stuck in the hood like they poured on us
Ghetto birds still on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
folks still spittin' on us
And them ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy ain't here. Beezy at? Beezy 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 than rappin' my nigga
But now all rappin', my niggas, so now I must make it happen
So I'mma the captain, sail boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil'
even though we couldn't, The Lord saved him
Last time we seen him was when Katrina
Found his body like a later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a good nigga, so I he blessed
And his is a princess
This shit is than a bench 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 stop the beat
I feel like my heart just the beat
My nigga Derrick is quick to cop a key
that or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his family and his mama's
So much shit sit on this mind of mine
I about 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, thank God I had 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 thought they killed Corn Bread
'em up face down on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had clothes on
And the goes on
But nobody do nothin' it
The and the morgue is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
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
still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma kill summer

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