This is a song about "Two three four roses"

Then i'm bustin' like an uzi when i'm through with that shit

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

So while you worry about the hoes

One two three to late now your gone busted nose

Third ward general, young cash money

One two three, what could it be

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

You'll see rhino as a prudent student of rap / i'll defuse the illusion of facts

Cooking in a laboratory, hoping i can tell a story

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

Plottin' don’t even worry

Or two. or maybe three?

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

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free