He grew up surrounded by anger and pain
The sound of a body hit the cold hard ground
The sight of a red liquid dripping slowly from his chest
Little hope left
With the world full of possibilities
He layed there with the cold of the bullet that accompanied him
How he left with nothing but a small scar
A true rose
That grew from the concrete

They ask us why we mutilate each other like we do
And wonder why we hold such little worth for human life
Facing all this drama
But to ask us why we to turn from bad to worse
Is to ignore from which we came
You see you wouldn't ask why the rose that grew from the concrete had damaged petals
On the contrary
We would all celebrate its tenacity
We would all love its will to reach the sun
Well
We are the roses
This is the concrete
And these are my damaged petals
Don't ask me why
Thank god nigga
Ask me how