Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic
If i give a fuck, it's probably from my dick
Glory but you dint know my back story. then i go one two three
Lately i been stressing so i need you like i’m crazy
One two three to late now your gone busted nose
Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes
One two three four five six seven eight nine
Still selling boy and girl, at the same damn time
Normally i order three or four of these
Than diggin' in your couch, looking for your car keys
With the blaze a your bluntsand you can picture thoughts slowly
You spit that end rhyme trash i'm spittin syllables two or three
Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will
Ice on our two four, you know it's too cool. time's too cruel.
But i pray these everlasting groupies don't fuck up this love
Roses grow from concrete, blossom into sweet magnolias,
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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