This is a song about "Crops"

We all commit sin, counterfeit stash and cash crops

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops

Got the crops growing beautifully,

Just to go to liv on a sunday

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

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them

Make meets ends picking crops for a penny here and then

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

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

Hoes show me love, niggas give me props

Like farmville without the crops

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

She don't suck nothing, buzzen, but she lick it nice

My bitches brighter always saying lights please

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,