This is a song about "Crops"

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

And if we don't we'll have a race of babies

The watch cost me 2; your bitch, free

Got the crops growing beautifully,

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

In some fucking yellow skinnies looking like a fucking faggot

Is it the money or my marriage or media peace

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

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

He probly clockin' double shifts on all of his jobs

The big bad wolf to me you're just a minor fox

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

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

Like farmville without the crops

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,

Said "i know you wanna change the world but for the night please