This is a song about "Two three four roses"

He grew from concrete, didn't live amongst the roses,

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

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

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free

Lately i been stressing so i need you like i’m crazy

The hardest four bars, and i aint even count to three

Or the crack that they sell to put food in their kids

We once came from fields of cotton to roses

Inducing my movements / as i'm improving my fusing on tracks

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

Always got a song to do can't get along it's true

Maybe i can help u a lil with a dollar three or two

U avoid me- u playing ring around the roses!

Go and get it motherfucker, if you murder kids