Listening the claps from the sky, flowers are falling,
Shawty look half indian and never say a thing
Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bang sniffed a lot of flowers,
My only purpose is to jerk it cause it has a curve
Out of roads grow the brightest flowers of the mix,
Good rhythm, bad women and better lyrics
But how can we improve when kids enjoy crushing flowers
And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth
But i'll still try to be the man sending you flowers.
When you making a difference it's gone be haters
Say bye bye to her
But then it caught on fire
I'm not a fucking coward cowering for hours lying in the flowers.
He carried weight like a mack truckgonna bust on some playa haters
But that's what he liked her
Your on fire.. your on fire
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