This is a song about "Cotton"

No longer with us; he's deceased

I'm always out in the cotton field

Cotton instead of a blend maybe your name

Don’t want nothing from a nigga; he all kinds of lame

But i ain't had none in a while i need your aspirations

Waitin' in the fields to pick the cotton, sick and rotten nations,

A straight thug motherfucker who ain't scared to bust

Now wait just one cotton pickin' second

Drape'd down n that benz boxxy truck wit oxy cut soft az cotton bunched in a bag

Just gettin you a job then i zip that broad tryina get in them walls like ghost dad

This meeting just begun, nigga i'm satan's son

I made your rep shrink like it's made out of 100% cotton!

We're not forgotten, while you say a fake truth soft as cotton,

It's ironic cause i always hear you talking about one

Remember this face, save me a place, in thug's mansion

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin