This is a song about "Food and cash crops"

Wear my hat to the back, i'm in a different kind of mood

Get my employees up on food stamps and work in fast food,

Like money, cash, and shit all was real

I got to make sure that i can play here

Make meets ends picking crops for a penny here and then

Ignore cus she mad again, then i hit her back again

Want the title but im always fighting under card

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

If you knew my past and you knew my cash

See her man face-to-face through the glass

And in this game you the gators' food

Words sharp like a jerry rice curl route

And if you or anyone else ever comes near my cash

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

They have no food, and they sleep on the cement

Digital ten, shit get critical friend