Roses

that's 80 in her pocket
4 for the train and maybe 20 for a wallet
she wanna take off like a rocket
she gotta bruise underneath her fuckin eye socket
i don't know how to stop it
i'm looking for the answers while i'm praying to the prophet
8 degrees my mothers on the scene
she tells me focus on the nightmares and less on the dreams
don't wanna make a scene
dried sweat stuck in the seam of my jeans
i was barely fifteen
my big homie trying to show me what this life mean
it's a cold fucking city
gotta get a grip can't let these demons fuckin hold me

yeah
yeah
look
big bag she giving me a cold shoulder
really hated it till i got a little bit older
cold world for the sons colder for the daughters
gotta pass a hurricane just to reach her water
ion really mean to brag but i thought told ya
ya walls are really really high but i got a ladder
just a young nigga really tryna holla at ya
get to know ya bring you up if you really wanna
if you don't i understand i can't really fault ya
she gotta a couple dollar bills in her back pocket
she gotta couple knives on her in case you won't stop it
i told her i really be where she think her home is
so instead of sending flowers i'll be her roses
i'll be her roses
i'll be her roses



Credits
Writer(s): Franck Davy Nzameyo
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link