From ghettoes and broken homes, we're roses grown from concrete,
So they hurtin but what's for certain you can get you some heat
Uh, i'm tryna learn something new
That's why roses are red and there go you.
I’m sayin’ that i know, revealing them most
Roses grown from concrete and mean streets, not meadows,
Not knowin it's hard to carry on when no one loves you
Let me tell what it was like, the shoe, it was nice and yellow too
Or that you could ever see me and you in another light
And probably think i'm comfortable because my color's white,
Stack in his hand trynna make that last
And stressed... about my white past
Roses/ and immortal tactics buried in my attic
If i give a fuck, it's probably from my dick
Yellow tape up and now your minds shocked
Cause my mother let me do what i want
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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