Lil Wayne - Cry Out lyrics

Yea yea yes
Ima call this here real rap
Cause this rap is real ya know?
I hope you ain't too tired to cry
And I hope you know you ain't
Never too live to die listen

I grew up where them people
Called them people on us think we slangin
But we just got beepers on us
Grindin' all day like we got sleep insomnia
Livin' 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 gettin' on us
Older bitches still hittin' 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 rappin 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 snappin'
Happy for my nigga Lil' Tiggas
Cause 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 don't 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 yea
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 you 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 nothin' bout it
The jailhouse and the morgue
Is too fuckin' crowded
And haters at an all time high
Everybody gotta 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 yea
And you 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 little brag money
But the nigga still wouldn't be a dad for me
But look how I turned out I
Hope he glad for me
But thats 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 wrote for me
And I know she gets all hope for me
And I don't ever 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
You are listenin' to the future Wee-zy F baby
Amen