Lil' Wayne

Lil' Wayne - Cry Out (Amen)

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Yeah! Yeah! Yes!

I'mma call this here... real rap

Cuz this rap is real... you know?

I hope ya ain't too tired to cry

And I hope ya know ya ain't neva too live to die



I grew up where them people called them people on us

Think we slanging, but we just got beepers on us

Grinding all day like we got sleep insomnia

Living like the videos write a treatment on us

Stuck in the hood like they put cement on us

Ghetto birds still shittin on us, government still quittin' on us

Lost a few homies and the grief still sittin on us

So we got the names writtin on us

White folks still spittin' on us

And them bitch ass police canines, teeth still grittin' on us

But we smoke, ashes still getting on us

All the bitches still hitting on us

I remember well, Beezy roll the L

Beezy ain't here, where's Beezy at?... Beezy got killed

And that was my nigga, I go way back wit my nigga

But I know thats how it happened my nigga

Shit is much deeper than this rapping my nigga

But now they all rappin, my niggas, so now I must make it happen

So I'mma play the captain, sail boat flappin my nigga

No fingas I'm snapping, happy fo' my nigga Lil' Tiggas

Cuz even though we couldn't, The Lord saved him

Last time we seen him was when Katrina hated

Found his body like a month later, Rest in Peace boy

He was a East boy, and so was Wesy West

He was a good nigga, so I know he blessed

And his daughter is a princess

This shit is harder than a bench press

But I'mma keep goin, and I swear I got a lump in my throat

But I'mma keep on pumpin the flow

So if I cry dont stop the beat

I feel like my heart just stopped the beat

My nigga Lil' Derrick is quick to cop a key

Either that or load the gat and go pop a G

And because of that he's just a name in a rhyme of mine

I pray his family and his mama fine

So much shit just sit on this mind of mine

I think about it all the time

I drink about it all the time

I smoke back to back

Cause if my thoughts got to me I'd be in this rap

Or I'd be in the can, thank God I had dreams of being the man


And fuck a man with a badge

Cause he ain't shit to a man on the edge

The five o killed naughty good boy dead

Man ya woulda thought they killed corn bread

Shot 'em up face down on the lawn

Not to mention with his handcuffs on

Not to mention they had plain clothes on

And the complaint goes on

But don't nobody do nothing bout it

The jailhouse and the morgue is too fucking crowded

And haters at an all time high

Everybody got to hate, it's like a fuckin iPod

Shit and they tried to burn my phantom up

But I got my gun license, I got my hammers up

I'm ready to shoot like a camera

Stay still mothafucka I'mma have to write my will this summer

Cause if they don't kill me, I'mma kill this summer


And ya can put that on my late father

Or my late grandmother, Ms. Mercedes Carter

Or my grandfather Larry Bosock

The old man hustle 'till his heart stopped

And all I know 'bout my real pops is that he had money

No bank account, that brown paper bag money

Yea he might hit me off wit a lil brag money

But the nigga still wouldn't be a dad fo' me

But look how I turned out I hope he glad fo' me

But that's why when I see him I acts mad funny

Cause he's a joke to me

Don't message, don't call, don't talk to me

It's just me and my mama how it's suppose to be

And I make sure she paid like she rode for me

And I know she gets all hope for me

And I don't eva want to see her mope for me

Hopefully, but truthfully there is a day that's due for me

But we gone pray it's as far as the future sees

Ya are listening to the future Wee-zy F. Baby


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