This is a song about "Two three four roses"

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

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

Tell me who's as rad as us and the answer was

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

But real freaky in tha darkplus i got some enemies, baby

Hey, must be the 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,

Satan falls back..demons get smacked...evil backtracks sinners get stopped in their tracks/

Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic

Push you into an old lady bagging plastic

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

And this ain’t biblical but this sermon is spiritual

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

All black everthing on some jigga shit