She Loves Me

My daughter died at four months old, she was only a fetus
Now she's sitting in a lavish throne and chatting with Jesus
The good die young, that's how the saying goes
Well I'm a bad dude, I can't be THAT opposed
Always crushing on the baddest hoes, thinking I was dumb fly
When the nicer women would approach, I always acted dumb shy
A nicer guy, even if I was fiending the way she moved
I could eventually make those feelings die
Within, sure I'd be surprised if she didn't come back
But then I catch my second wind;
Because niggas like to kick you when you're downbeat
So I just sound off when no one is around me
I don't want to be caught up with all that pent-up stress
I try to keep a level-head, she was like the psychopaths, yeah I knew 'em
But did she ever get well after we went to bed?
Did she ever clean off her knives after she would say,
"I don't want to live if you're leaving!", did her bathroom sink ever turn ruby red?
It did, & when she comes around every year she gets more deceiving
So I just feel stupid for flirting with a dying season