This is a song about "Two three four roses"

That fire flow the finest women i adore

So when i kick in the door, not waving the four four

One, two, three little fags, they fuck with my homies so i grab out the body bags,

Maybe i can teach these lazy babies to stop making their zany raps

Ya’ll be highly obliged when i drop my shit

It's only one round, two or three i don't need it

U avoid me- u playing ring around the roses!

She on media take out, but don't take out her kids

Glory but you dint know my back story. then i go one two three

Surrounded by the irony of living in the city

The hot-box vehicle like breathing out the window

You're stuck in a time warp from two thousand four though

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

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

Everybody watching while you touching real money

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