This is a song about "Crops"

That proud feeling we get knowin' that pussy is ours

So i can start this freestyle, got more rhymes than there's crops

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys

Pushing keys like them niggas that were banging on the keys

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

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

Feed niggas shells like my motherfucking beach is nice

Dc, man over money

Got the crops growing beautifully,

Statistics say that niggas with no father ain't going to be shit

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

We all commit sin, counterfeit stash and cash crops

Fat rhymes every time, bitch, roseanne bars

A hell of motherfucking road blocks

Like farmville without the crops