This is a song about "Two three four roses"

And naw that ain't your girl, dog, but you be feelin' that chick

Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic

One two three everybody wana be

God mc oh my god you gotta see

It ain't nothing to me, i’m who they coming to see

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

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

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

One two three four five six seven eight nine

Don't press ya luck when i'm pressed for time

I'll chew a new one up every two to three minutes,

And if you disagree, suck a couple pimple-covered dicks

Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,

I'm in new york now, like akeem and semmi was