This is a song about "Wars of roses"

On a wheelchair upon a bed of roses long decayed

That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight

But of course, i'm the white boy that shows no remorse

Zealous pilgrims are gone, now it's competitive wars,

Are laying out in front of me, but anyways, we're roses grown,

Late night to the early morn, i've been such a rolling stone

So i went down south but i ended up north

Claiming ourself more now fit wars

I'll be your savior from all the wars/

It ain't gon' be no back and forth

My weed and my broad exotic with no seeds

I'm tired of rap wars it's time for some stories

Not the applause or roses thrown in awe

Is written in our souls, africa

That you can't fit inside a jansport, go to school with this

Give your mother a call, bring your girlfriend roses,