This is a song about "Crops"

Rather than buy our songs, they busy cheering the stars

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

Than diggin' in your couch, looking for your car keys

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

What the fuck? that's your fucking brother? i ain't with that jerkin' shit

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

Shit, i use the same line, like i did again

Make meets ends picking crops for a penny here and then

So i got my camera on your cameltoe say cheese

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

We all commit sin, counterfeit stash and cash crops

My bitches brighter always saying lights please

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

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

I'm an eskimo, nigga, i got cold bars