This is a song about "Two three four roses"

You spit that end rhyme trash i'm spittin syllables two or three

Highest form of respect, if you say you're not ready

Lady g, willy b in time

One two three four five six seven eight nine

So here it is on myself ... are you ready one , two three lets go

You know your son a asshole, but i hope you got those stacks though

And leave the scene the way i came herethough some people say it's crazy

In one two three a mother fucker that’s all he is gonna be

One two three to late now your gone busted nose

Actually i like a broad that can bag hoes

I keep that hottie, just look at her body

The hardest four bars, and i aint even count to three

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

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

But i pray these everlasting groupies don't fuck up this love