Two or three, hits of thc, yeah it fits for me.
Last time i check, that was the biggest racist party
A single mother with a problem child, daddy free
You spit that end rhyme trash i'm spittin syllables two or three
He grew from concrete, didn't live amongst the roses,
It made its way home like a road map, i fathered this
The revolution has arrived
Three strikes, two tokes, one time for your mind
In the clouds looking down, i ain't even in a rush
Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,
Do not give a fuck i've got the swagger of a virgin's dick
Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic
So when i kick in the door, not waving the four four
But i took a fly route to an opposite shore
All up in my jeans and i'm gunna' hit her with that
It's only one round, two or three i don't need it
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