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,

Inducing my movements / as i'm improving my fusing on tracks

Three strikes, two tokes, one time for your mind

They provokin' suicide but as soon as signed

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

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

And the life i live is hell see, i never thought i'd see

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

The game ain't pretty but i'm reppin' for my city

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

Or two. or maybe three?

Cause some of you bitches funny

Ice on our two four, you know it's too cool. time's too cruel.

To make karma come faster than she normally will