This is a song about "Dying light"

Obama trying, i'm not lyin', too many people dying

Sick of tha sirens, body bags, and tha gun firing

A dying dream, you even try in

I know they pay me too much of attention

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

Obama trying, i'm not lyin', too many people dying

Let me hide from the light,

They loved the sight

And i have to say that music keeps me here, by far, the main thing

I runaway with lights flying, waiting till day the nights dying

After all the times i preferred dying.

The most that they can do is find me, i'm hiding

She got grove st. on replay

Gangstas dying from day to day

Gotta get into the light

I'm feeling like things gon' be alright