It beats picking cotton

Where are the slaves? Who's picking the cotton?

Picking a guitar was a lot easier than picking cotton.

When I'm rhyming it's all in my head... Like the slaves, when they were picking cotton, they would block out their minds. They would sing.

Slavery had just broke when my grandfather was born, so he came up through it - in the backdoors, picking cotton ... trying to make a living. So he grew up with hatred in his heart toward whites, but he had to make a living off them.

When I'm rhyming it's all in my head... Like the slaves, when they were picking cotton, they would block out their minds. They would sing.