This is a song about "Bloods crops"

Life should be like this, no bloods or crips, just a good night kiss,

We did it again last king, ymcmbi don't pay for bitches

‘cuz they choose colors of bloods and crips in gangs,

Yeah, red bottoms, she ain't trying to dance

Pushing keys like them niggas that were banging on the keys

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

I can only imagine, uncle bob

Young bloods really hate school but they study to rob

We all commit sin, counterfeit stash and cash crops

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

Make a drive by send them fuckin bloods dying

The most that they can do is find me, i'm hiding

So i can start this freestyle, got more rhymes than there's crops

Now my watch fruity colors like trix in a box

And burn you so bad bloods ask "you ok cripple"

I function with you and you flaunt your pistol