Trying to be better

#Tryingtobebetter #McCP'ssongs I’m 38 years old with a past I can’t shake, Said I’d turn it around — for a decade, still fake. I’ve been the excuse, the ghost, the no-show, Said “next week” so much I don’t even know. Time flies when you're numb, when you're driftin' through smoke, I watched good years burn, man, I damn near choked. Mama’s still prayin’, but she don’t say much, Tired of the heartbreak, tired of the crutch. I missed birthdays, funerals, weddings too, All for another hit, another lie, another skewed view. Got nieces I ain’t met, a brother I ain’t hugged, And a rap sheet thicker than the love I once plugged. I ain’t a kid messin’ up, I’m a grown-ass man, With a busted spine tryin’ to take a stand. My joints ache from sleepin’ on concrete beds, Dreams long gone, just survival instead. Chorus: I ain’t the son you deserved, I ain’t the man I planned, But I’m tryna be better with these scarred-up hands. Tryna crawl out this hole, tryna make it stick, Even if the world still sees me as sick. I know it’s late — but I ain’t done yet, Got a soul to redeem and a lifetime of debt. They can laugh, they can doubt, but I ain’t lettin’ go, Tryna be better — even if it's fucking slow. I ain’t here to preach, I ain’t clean messiah, Just a man with some matches tryin’ to rebuild fire. They said “you’ll be nothin’,” and some days they right, But I still show up, I still choose to fight. Seen jail cells, ERs, and cold church steps, Seen love turn its back with nothin’ left. Ain’t no Disney comeback, ain’t no wrap-up scene, Just a dude in a meeting, keepin’ hope clean. I got no kids of my own and no wedding band, Just a halfway locker and a shake in my hand. But I found peace in routines, truth in pain, Even wrote my story in a storm of rain. Every time I wanted out, thought this life was cursed, I’d remember your voice sayin’, “You’re more than your worst.” And maybe that’s faith, maybe that’s grace, Or maybe it’s guilt that I can’t erase. But I keep walkin’ — through shame and relapse, Through the silence of friends who ain’t ever come back. I keep walkin’ — not to prove I’m strong, But to give the man I lost a place to belong. Chorus: I ain’t the son you deserved, I ain’t the man I planned, But I’m tryna be better with these scarred-up hands. Tryna crawl out this hole, tryna make it stick, Even if the world still sees me as sick. I know it’s late — but I ain’t done yet, Got a soul to redeem and a lifetime of debt. They can laugh, they can doubt, but I ain’t lettin’ go, Tryna be better — even if it's fucking slow. I don’t want trophies, don’t want applause, Just a quiet day without breakin’ the laws. Wanna hold my head high at a job I keep, Not get high and lose another week. Wanna answer the phone without fear in my gut, Wanna sit at the table, not outside in the cut. I’m done beggin’ — I just wanna earn, And maybe teach someone else before they burn. Chorus Outro: So mama, if you’re listenin’, I’m still in the fight, Might be scarred, might be broke, but I’m reachin’ for light. Don’t know how far I’ll make it, but I swear I’ll try, ‘Cause you gave me love I can’t let die. I’m 38, and this road’s all cracked, But I ain’t turnin’ back, I’m done with that. Just one more day, then another, then some — Tryna be better… before my fucking time is gone.