The Third Always Speaks The Unspeakable Words.

If You Walked By A Street And You Was Walking A Concrete And You Saw A Rose Growing From Concrete, Even If It Had Messed Up Petals And It Was A Little To The Side You Would Marvel At Just Seeing A Rose Grow Through Concrete. So Way Is It That When You See Some Ghetto Kid Grow Out Of The Dirtiest Circumstance And He Can Talk And He Can Sit Across The Room And Make You Cry, Make You Laugh, All You Can Talk About Is My Dirty Rose, My Dirty Stems And How Am Leaning Crooked To The Side, U Can't Even See That I've Come Up From Out Of That.

My Homie Lost His Family And Snapped, Shot Up Half The Block To Bring Them Back.

Somebody Help Me, Tell Me Where To Go From Here Cause Even Thugs Cry, But Do The Lord Care?

Some Say The Blacker The Berry, The Sweeter The Juice I Say The Darker The Flesh Then The Deeper The Roots

While I'm Dreaming, Wake Up Screaming, Cuz I Can Hear Them Suckas Scheming.