Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma this one, real rap
Because this rap is real, ya
I you ain't 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 just got on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' the videos write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood like they poured on us
Ghetto birds shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the grief sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White still spittin' on us
And them bitch ass canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the still hittin' on us
I remember well, Beezy a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's at? Beezy got killed
And that was my nigga, I go way wit my nigga
But I that's how it happened my nigga
Shit is much deeper than this my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I must it happen
So I'mma play the captain, sail boat flappin' my
No fingas I'm snappin', for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The saved him
Last time we seen him was when hated
his body like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was West
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his is a princess
This shit is harder a bench press
But I'mma 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 stopped the
My Lil' Derrick is quick to cop a key
Either or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's just a name in a rhyme of
I pray his and his mama's fine
So much just sit on this mind of mine
I think it all the time
I about it all the time
I smoke to back
'Cause if my thoughts got to me I'd be in rap
Or I'd be in the can, God I had dreams of being the man

And fuck a man a badge
'Cause he 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 with his on
Not to they had plain clothes on
And the goes on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all high
Everybody gotta hate, just like a fuckin'
Shit and they to burn my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to shoot a camera
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 on my late father
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Mercedes
Or my grandfather Bosock
The old man hustle 'till his heart
And all I know my real pops is that he had money
No bank account, that paper bag money
Yeah he hit me off wit a little brag money
But the still wouldn't be a dad for me
But how I turned 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, don't 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 know she gets all for me
And I ever want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but truthfully there is a day due for me
But we gone pray as far as the future sees
You are listenin' to the future F. Baby