Better Days

[Verse 1]
Ohhh I love L.A, but goddamn I miss the corner store
Might touch a pistol if I can't locate some dough
NBA street, man you know I made that paper stretch
Had the whole team, itching off them damn percocet's
Hundred beads, and my man's told me that they went for ten
That was back then, all the kiddies now they popping xans
For a little fee, man I lay a custy down to sleep
So I pray, to the sky, ask the lord for better days
Uhh, ask the lord for better days

[Verse 2]
Yeah I'm with the shits
If we talking hits, domestic whips
[?] rips, all my Bergen county flossy shit
A bunch of niggas in the city don't never amount to shit
I know the town been waiting well motherfucker yeah this is it
In a [?] if I'm [?] only time I savor it
Recording in my mama crib, local rappers on my tip
All my niggas getting high, and I'm tired of getting by

[Verse 3]
Yeah your boy is hot, fuck a jump shot
Tell the coach that I don't need that shit
They can suck a dick (suck a dick)
Bitches used to play me, now they play me like I know this kid
And they hit me nonchalant I act like I don't notice it
Gift me with the box like Christmas
Yeah I had to tell my friends
Shit was fire, shit was flames, think I got to hit again
Shit was feeling like some buttered leather or some brand new suede
So I pray, to the sky, thank the lord for better days