Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma call one, real rap
this rap is real, ya know?
I you ain't too tired to cry
And I hope you know you ain't too live to die

I grew up where them people them people on us
Think we slangin', but we got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood they 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 their names on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the bitches hittin' on us
I well, Beezy roll 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 know that's how it my nigga
Shit is much deeper this 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 Lil' Tiggas
'Cause even though we couldn't, The Lord him
time we seen him was when Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, rest in boy
He was a boy, and so was Wesy West
He was a nigga, so I know he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder a bench press
But I'mma keep goin', and I I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma keep on the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I feel like my just stopped the beat
My nigga Lil' Derrick is 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 family and his mama's
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I think about it all the
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 fuck a man a badge
'Cause he ain't shit to a man on the
The five-o Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought they killed Corn
Shot 'em up down on the lawn
Not to with his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had clothes on
And the goes on
But do nothin' 'bout it
The and the morgue is too fuckin' crowded
And at an all time high
gotta hate, just like a fuckin' iPod
Shit and they to burn 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 don't kill me, I'mma kill this summer

And you can put that on my late
Or my late grandmother, Ms. Carter
Or my Larry Bosock
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 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 that's why I see him I acts mad funny,
he's 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 paid she rode for me
And I know she all hope 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 pray it's as far as the future sees
You are to the future Weezy F. Baby