This is a song about "Bloods crops"

But i let off everything i have

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

Like farmville without the crops

More props. r.i.p., my poor pops

Ur tracks mashed and done for and bloods spilled."

So check the verse miss. i ain't say i'm perfect

Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

And like a bloods point of view, i'l have you seeing all red!

A clever idea to take something they said

Niggas wanna know why i'm so nice

Bloods rushin and gushin from between your eyes

The strange fruit, crops growin', blowin' in the breeze,

We still visualize places, that we can roll in peace

In some fucking yellow skinnies looking like a fucking faggot

Minimize the population with verses that crops it to a few bit