This is a song about "Dreams of happiness"

Before these motherfuckers see me sufferinbut it ain't nothin

But the postwar margin of happiness is less than the rate of adoption

Dreams of having my shit played back on popular stereo

Even when the skies is grey, and my money was low

Through fiends and thieves dreams of shit grown on money trees,

But now i'm pointin the finger at police

Hungry like the nigga who ain't got the taste of fame yet

They share the same bed, instead of happiness they prefer dread

Outcast with a c dreams of smoking with pauly shore

Yea this is like a penthouse, served at the top floor

Since i was a child, i had dreams of

And i need you to show me love

And crush your fuckin dreams cause im such a piece of shit

Sippy cup full of whip creamed hot chocolate

My dreams of being something were put on hold.

Nudies and some j six, where i’m from it’s cold