Cry Out Lyrics - Lil Wayne

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 

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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 

All the 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 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 

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 rode 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 

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