This is a song about "Butterflies and roses"

Give your mother a call, bring your girlfriend roses,

Fall, bitch, give me everything, i'm taking all this

Here's my heart you can hold it, i won't need it on this road trip

Several hundred roses for the dozens bullets leaves you in the casket,

And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brainarguements with my boo is true

Roses are red, violets are blue, i have five fingers, the middle one's for you.

About to slide out but i'll get back at ya ooh

That's why roses are red and there go you.

He grew from concrete, didn't live amongst the roses,

With an impending mixtape that only seems like a myth

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,

The prerequisite is gun clappin' so what happened

Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic

And we ain't hard to find is the tales that we kick