This is a song about "Butterflies and roses"

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

I'm tryna follow money, she tryna fall in love

Just know that you'll be leaving with butterflies

And, yup, i gave lyrics a reason to want to live

Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,

Seven, what's religion nigga? i am legend

On a wheelchair upon a bed of roses long decayed

Rat poison your relish right in the center, babe

Are laying out in front of me, but anyways, we're roses grown,

Tell the lady in the liquorstore that she's forgiven, so come home

Roses grown from concrete and mean streets, not meadows,

Bitch i'm ballin' like i'm comin' off of free throws

And a finger in the middle that i leave em with

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

Not the applause or roses thrown in awe

How beautiful are thou, africa