This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Out of mind out of sight

You should spend the night

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

Mobb deep shook it but prodigy took it a lil' too far

A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred

Notice it every time i pick up the microphone and spit

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

I know my calling's worth like phone card

How high? nigga, higher than the kites they fly

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

She need now, she ain't never needed love

Of which im not exactly proud of,

Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead

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