flowers smell good
bee's can fly
but we is in the hood
we love to look in the sky
we love to here the bell ring
bee's love the flowers so they sit
we love spring
boy's love to hit
we love the flowers so we play
so people call us out of our names
we love to lay
we do not have no game's
flower's smell good
but we is still in the hood
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem