This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Top of my pile of bodies

Right flows down and they might go nice

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

Thats my surroundings in compton, have common sense

I bet you've never seen a pig fly

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

Pocket racked up all big faces

Of potential cases

Now this is what i call an evening

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Dc, man over money

Beaches of normandy.

Defendants of a meddle, restless full of potential

I ain't got time to swag nigga this is monumental

And this still the hardest shit you've heard from la this far

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