Luyện nghe bài hát Cry Out (Amen)

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

I grew up where them people called them on us
Think we slangin', but we just got on us
Grindin' all day we got sleep insomnia
Livin' like the write a treatment on us
Stuck in the like they poured cement 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 folks spittin' on us
And bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us
But we smoke, ashes gettin' on us
All the still hittin' on us
I remember well, roll a L
Beezy ain't here. Where's Beezy at? got killed
And was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga
But I know that's how it happened my
Shit is much than this rappin' my nigga
But now they all rappin', my niggas, so now I make it happen
So I'mma the captain, sail boat flappin' my nigga
No fingas I'm snappin', happy for my nigga Lil'
'Cause even though we couldn't, The saved him
Last time we seen him was Katrina hated
Found his body like a month later, rest in 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 press
But I'mma keep goin', and I swear I got a in my throat
But keep on pumpin' the flow
So if I cry stop the beat
I feel 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 a name in a rhyme of mine
I pray his and his mama's fine
So much shit just sit on this mind of
I think it all the time
I drink about it all the
I smoke back to
'Cause if my got to me I'd be in this rap
Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had dreams of the man

And a man with a badge
'Cause he shit to a man on the edge
The killed Naughty, good boy dead
Man you woulda thought killed Corn Bread
Shot 'em up down on the lawn
Not to mention his handcuffs on
Not to mention they had plain on
And the complaint on
But nobody do nothin' it
The and the morgue is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time
Everybody gotta hate, just a fuckin' iPod
Shit and tried 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 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 'till his heart stopped
And all I know 'bout my real pops is that he had
No account, that brown paper bag money
he might hit me off wit a little brag money
But the nigga wouldn't be a dad for me
But look how I out I hope he glad for me
But that's why when I see him I mad funny,
he's 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 she rode for me
And I know she gets all for me
And I don't want to see her mope for me
Hopefully, but there is a day that's due for me
But we gone pray it's as far as the future
You are listenin' to the future F. Baby