This is a song about "The day of judjement"

And drew up a blue image of the day she died

It's a pimp in my ride, no need to pimp the ride

Jesus christ, the king of these latter-day saints here

Since the birth of my son, the street life losing appeal

And at the end of the day,

What the feigns say, few roaches you need spray

At the end of day we all have or had mothers

Is probably filled with some other niggas numbers

And i move across your membrane, you loose against my insane

The mundane acts of day to day without her just aren't the same.

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

Afraid every day will be the day of my last visit

And thought that one day, he'd get rid of the pain.

I am marvin with mind, but i listen to wayne

But she sure can get you high if the coke let her

Doesn't matter the time of day, not even the weather.