This is a song about "Two three four roses"

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