This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

The things im most scared of

But you hate them navel kisses

But once the smoke clears, you right back where you was

Cause america the terror of,

Of the book of your life

I just shake dice

Of being of always getting wired

And when my eyes looking like a nigga tired

I'm love stoned from everywhere and she knows

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

I bet you've never seen a pig fly

Africa and europe, it's a small world we truly neighbors

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

The rolls-royce, it’s all white

Out of mind out of sight