This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Like a small garage in your backyard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

The things im most scared of

Is there any love

Who trill as me, roll two of tree

Thoughts of immortality

I'm hot breeze, snot sneeze

Top of my pile of bodies

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

Of being of always getting wired

Uhh, i woke up and screamed, fuck the world

We can count the stars on the hood in your father's car

There ain't no genie jars to grant what your petty wishes are

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

Just seen another brother buried plus i knew him for years