This is a song about "Two three four roses"

See my desire for the lust, fucked up what was love

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

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

In fact my past is the raddest, filled with bags of grass and captain caps

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

And mack maine rap, sing and manage, uhit's young moolah baby

And this ain’t biblical but this sermon is spiritual

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

She on media take out, but don't take out her kids

We once came from fields of cotton to roses

One two three, what could it be

It was just another party

Or two. or maybe three?

We like to party

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

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see