This is a song about "Cotton"

Cotton instead of a blend maybe your name

Fresh out the plane i couldn't even complain

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

Better yet they work my every nerve

So get your glass lift it up in the toast position

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

I say that keeps me going

Out in the cotton gin

Now wait just one cotton pickin' second

You wasn't fin' to dress all crazy no more and

Did you fix me up, i'm your number 1 fiend

Come on bitch, get back to the cotton field

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

My only purpose in life to kill myself up on accident

Dropping my gunor as high as a kite hitting hoes for fun

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