This is a song about "Two three four roses"

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

It's difficult to let it goi'm startin' to loose my hair cause i worry

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

My bars are harder than ancient artifacts, so sit back and relax

Sometimes you buy the ring, with no problems you will love

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

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

Driver drop me off at dulles im headed to some money

Or two. or maybe three?

All i want is you baby

Normally i order three or four of these

I'm everything that they call nice

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

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

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