This is a song about "Two three four roses"

So high i’m on the ceiling baby

One two three everybody wana be

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

I'm making straight bitches pussy wet just like a noodle

That flies me to places, with spaceships, that don't need money

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

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

Even if i didn't i would ball like arenas - swish

You're stuck in a time warp from two thousand four though

Zoning my second bottle, focused still on tomorrow

Her hair all over the bed, that make me love her more

So when i kick in the door, not waving the four four

Or two. or maybe three?

Ridin’ round, and this bitch dirty