This is a song about "Bed of roses"

Wish you niggas father understood where the condom was

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

Puts the pieces of decomposing bodies in plastic

Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic

How the thort of you gets me outta bed

Cop me air ones, hon, lime and red

Not mine, i'm with wale, i'm just a tourist on the set

And repurpose other versions of your murder bed

Tired of hearin' these voices in my head

Ahead in life and out of bed

Instead of being stuck inside of my bed or whatever

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

On a wheelchair upon a bed of roses long decayed

Your bitch only like you cause she thinks you getting paid

Baby doll, check it out: i get around

Silence of the lambs, roses on the ground