This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

I spit murder, every bar is a crime

Couple of shots and a glass of wine.

Beaches of normandy.

She going to borrow some money

Cause america the terror of,

Rub the wood and ima show em love

Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.

But it made me the man i am today, thanks

Snitches here don't got no heart

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

For years like their degree

Thoughts of immortality

Jars upon jars, but yet no jam for the bread.

You claim you a dog, my nigga, i’m the vet

Sky high, iced out paradise

Of the book of your life