This is a song about "Butterflies and roses"

Must be part of some big plan to keep a brotha in tha state

On a wheelchair upon a bed of roses long decayed

My bitches bad, these niggas mad, i guess it's just what the fame brings

She doesn't understand the notion, of turning rosaries to roses

Roses grown from concrete and mean streets, not meadows,

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

Swag-er. this is a mixtape about... nothing. not on drugs

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

I'mma stay a whilehold ya head chris

We once came from fields of cotton to roses

Roses are red and violets are blue

'n' they don’t make me laugh or even cook like you

So i guess i’m good naira,yoruba love give em my love

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

It feels good putting money in your mailboxi love paying rent when the rent's due

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