This is a song about "Two three four roses"

U avoid me- u playing ring around the roses!

We all here, from the dealers to the kids

A-town, nigga, yeah it's trap city

Two or three, hits of thc, yeah it fits for me.

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

I know a bunch of envious niggas don't love my city

In the clouds looking down, i ain't even in a rush

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

Normally i order three or four of these

Niggas wanna know why i'm so nice

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

Face the facts, 'cuz honesty is somethin' that our nation lacks,

We once came from fields of cotton to roses

Like that's going to make up for the years and the tears

I'm the trill og and i be out here on the grind

Three strikes, two tokes, one time for your mind