Must be part of some big plan to keep a brotha in tha state
On a wheelchair upon a bed of roses long decayed
Professing they found one ready as this
We once came from fields of cotton to roses
Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,
In the clouds looking down, i ain't even in a rush
U avoid me- u playing ring around the roses!
Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live
Push you into an old lady bagging plastic
Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic
Silence of the lambs, roses on the ground
I've been a pro, but now i'm profound
In some fucking yellow skinnies looking like a fucking faggot
Several hundred roses for the dozens bullets leaves you in the casket,
Twenty-million dollar nigga, but i do it like this
He grew from concrete, didn't live amongst the roses,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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