Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

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

I grew up where 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 write a treatment on us
Stuck in the hood they poured cement on us
birds still shittin' on us, government still quittin' on us
Lost a few homies and the still sittin' on us
So we got their names on us
White folks still on us
And them bitch ass canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes still on us
All the bitches still on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy ain't here. 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 deeper 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 Lil'
'Cause though we couldn't, The Lord 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 good nigga, so I he blessed
And his daughter is a
This shit is harder a bench press
But keep goin', and I swear I got a lump in my throat
But I'mma on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry don't stop the
I feel like my heart 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 he's just a name in a rhyme of mine
I his family and his mama's fine
So much just sit on this mind of mine
I think about it all the
I about it all the time
I smoke to back
'Cause if my 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 shit to a man on the edge
The five-o killed Naughty, boy dead
Man you woulda thought they killed 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 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 tried to my Phantom up
But I got my gun license, I got my up
I'm ready to like a camera
Stay still I'mma have to write my will this summer
'Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma kill this

And you can put on my late father
Or my grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter
Or my Larry Bosock
The old man hustle his heart 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 brag money
But the nigga wouldn't 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,
'Cause he's a to me
Don't message, don't call, don't to me
It's just me and my mama how suppose to be
And I make sure she paid like she for me
And I know she gets all for me
And I don't ever want to see her for me
Hopefully, but truthfully there is a day due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the future
You are listenin' to the Weezy F. Baby