This is a song about "Crops"

I am sick of women treatin' niggas like that lotto ticket

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

We all commit sin, counterfeit stash and cash crops

Cause my hoes in the x like they model for cars

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

Feed niggas shells like my motherfucking beach is nice

Make meets ends picking crops for a penny here and then

Then dipping with the fucking pen to go sin again

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

Like farmville without the crops

You pussies ain't shit but venereal disease

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

If you see us in the club, we'll be actin' real nice

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

I like bitches in air maxes without socks

Welcome to hell's plot, the spot rots, like stale crops