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
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