This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Of potential cases

And i need you to show me love

Can i meet that, where you be at, everybody try to beat that

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

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

King of the va, off of those toxins.

Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

I know my calling's worth like phone card

Weekend trippin to wherever, only heaven is far

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

They disregard me, i guess they all got egos

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

She need now, she ain't never needed love

Raybands...hide the face of,