This is a song about "Corn rows"

For those you claim friends commit, get in the thunder cold, plant the rows

If i take an oath that mean i give up all my area code hoes

And stabbing this ice cube look-a-like to show you a nigga with attitude

You couldnt make a belemic puke on a piece of fuckin corn and peanut poop

Here they keep a rachet close

And my ex hoes, she pop ex rows

And my ex hoes, she pop ex rows

Took me a while just to write those

Running around the corner, darting past rows of teens,

We all dream one day we be kings and queens

Standing flat footed, i’m on my toes

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,

Is it a corn row or a fro

Let me say this shit in slow-mo, homo

Hands up, throw me up against the wall

Playing in the corn, wake up call