This is a song about "Cotton pickers"

Homie popped up with about twenty bags and

Now wait just one cotton pickin' second

Still ain't got no ice, only cotton sweaters.

Now, if you was the last man walking on earth

Womanizing to say the least

I'm always out in the cotton field

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

Caught up and slipping for fearing a mcdonald’s position

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment

I wont forget about all the men forced to pick cotton and

Cotton instead of a blend maybe your name

I love that hour glass shape you got up on that frame

Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck

When ever i think of you michael i allways fucking think "cotton bud"!

And the reason that i'm going

Out in the cotton gin