This is a song about "Fruit"

Pressed in timeswe busted like bubbleswith the police

Strange fruit grew from wicked roots, you'd fiend for money trees

Are growing wild weeds and vines, strange fruit abundantly,

It's about niggas and bitches, power and money

Strange fruit, that's the truth, i spit it in the booth,

Fuck it we on the move, none of use tryna lose

The segregated south, with the strange fruit growin',

Mix a little syrup, it ain't no way to cure him

If you got up stage and fruit meets ya face,

But i know i see better days

When he was undressing said it'll only be a minute

That grow into foreign friends and eventually strange fruit,

The only fruit he coulda taught,

Only real niggas stay on top

Yea, smoking loud enjoying my youth

Strange fruit, that's the truth, i spit it in the booth,