Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

Yeah,
Yes
I'mma this 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 called 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 like they cement on us
Ghetto still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few and the grief still sittin' on us
So we got their writtin' on us
White folks spittin' on us
And them bitch ass police canines, teeth grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still 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 was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know how it happened my nigga
Shit is much than this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I 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 though we couldn't, The Lord him
Last time we seen him was when Katrina
Found his like a month later, rest in peace boy
He was a East boy, and so was Wesy
He was a good nigga, so I know he
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder than a bench
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my
But I'mma keep on the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I like my heart just stopped the beat
My Lil' Derrick is quick to cop a key
that or load the gat and go pop a G
And because of that he's just a in a rhyme of mine
I pray his and his mama's fine
So shit just sit on this mind of mine
I think about it all the
I drink it all the time
I smoke back to
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 with a
'Cause he ain't shit to a man on the
The five-o killed Naughty, good boy
Man you woulda they killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up face down on the
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the complaint on
But nobody do 'bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue is too fuckin'
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 ready to like a camera
Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will summer
'Cause if they kill me, I'mma kill this summer

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