🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Better Days - The Game

 [Andre Merritt]
 Been holding this pain inside for so 
  the rain never goes away
 they say I  leave these streets behind me
 but its so hard to 
 oh lord  send me an angel
 to  me out of this place,
 send  a away,
 far away
 to  days,
 
 [The Game]
 the  thing I wanna do is say wat up to TI,
 king of the south, now everybody  why,
 im  driving and thinking how I survived here,
 and I aint seen dre and  in 5 years,
 that  shady right,
 i live a  life,
 so many black thoughts  had to paint the mercedes white,
 I can tell you about the rims  I aint here for that,
 going out like big and pac I fear for 
  this lambo and put 6 holes in it,
 shatter  glass and leave my body exposed in it,
 lift the doors up and let all  demons out,
  I can see my brother now cos thats what i been dreaming bout,
 i aint thinking bout b-tches or pulling beemers 
 im thinking bout my son safety everytime they  the house,
 i know how to make it out the hood i seen  route,
  heres the proof me venus and serena out,
 
 [Chorus]
 
 im  on these stairs at this church,
 bout  start a verse
  somewhere in the world somebody about to start a hearse,
 tell me who inside it, who’s son  that,
 and how  get there, now tell me who gun is that,
 i aint saying confess definietly aint saying 
 but if you kiled the n-gga help his momma  his ditch,
 im from the hood where n-gga gotta keep their  cocked,
 kids wear  beats to stop the sound of gun shots,
 but at least they got the dre beats cos kids in africa aint even got shoes  they feet,
 and i seen it on my own  at the same time I picking flys off my own eyes,
 can you feel that, if you can  them buzzing,
 you can feel the pain of Mike Tyson  his baby mother,
 they  there baby daughter and she was only 3
 she never got a chance  blossom on the family tree,
 
 [Chorus]
 
 We got a new president and I love that he 
 but Imma ask him like  where the soldiers at?
 now move the camera to new orleans  the soldiers at,
 the water dried up  n-gga do the Nolia clap
 we all juveniles we all been  some trials,
 and some  Im in this booth pacing,
 what do I  next, should I talk about some cars
 or the next chapter of my life  show you all my scars,
 or my  wounds and my stab wounds,
 can’t show you  covered them up with tattoos,
 i can’t do nothing but spit the 
 on probation smoking drink patrone before I hit  booth,
  making songs for the clubs while n-ggas drinking,
 i make em for  ride home when n-ggas thinking,
  minute you here, next minute sh-t is tragic,
 and its a Jim Johnsin  now fill this stack
 
 [Chorus]