Better Days

Baby girl I know it seems so sad God always change his plan don't get dreary cause in this game we gotta improvise so my angel lady dry up them eyes and it's so easy to let shed um tears just by remminecsing on the lesser years weed smoke is takin on some crazy shapes got pistols peircin shields sinin' and hate sadly predicting falls comin' to late anxious puff by puff to live out or fate now mustaches growin on um babies men young faced and our life is gone crazy who run da streets if the glock do it's job evil exist's and the outcome is mobs to be a nation of adolescents cause all our men is some convelescents but I can't stress in the evil ways I keep on prayin for some better days