This is a song about "Food and cash crops"

Like farmville without the crops

Fuckin' up my gold pots

And my bank account look just like a phone card

And pawn shops and thrift stores and food lion, nail it hard,

And as i can't gather enough food to eat

You can get ya cash on nigga if ya peep

Rozay told me break a leg no wonder why i care again

Make meets ends picking crops for a penny here and then

Hopin' when this bread get here

Like money, cash, and shit all was real

No doctors and lawyers or nurses and cops, just fast food,

When i'm fuckin' and we on cloud nine for that minute

Yellin and merk off fat dog food purina

Temperatures drop; see it's cool to shoot a nigga