This is a song about "Crops"

Bail was a quarter mill, they put me in a box

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

Like farmville without the crops

Niggas is working forever my bars

Got the crops growing beautifully,

Cause some of you bitches funny

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

Your bitch looking messy like she smoking rocks

We all commit sin, counterfeit stash and cash crops

Jordan 4 seated floorside sitting with mars

The race war, when it's us against all of them

Make meets ends picking crops for a penny here and then

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

But now i'm pointin the finger at police

That's why i get cut like i don't fuck with the coach knees

It reminds me of the crops from the poplar trees,