This is a song about "Two three four roses"

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

Maharishi kicks and bape tee's i really do this

We once came from fields of cotton to roses

We got stripes in my city, ain't none of my niggas yankees though

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

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes

One two three to late now your gone busted nose

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

Annihilatin' those, i'm rakin' but makin' dough

Normally i order three or four of these

And i know - there'll never be peace

Give your mother a call, bring your girlfriend roses,

And i'll be rich if i get another diss

Fuck fame, i love my fans just a little more

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