This is a song about "Jars of crafts"

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

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

They two now, and haven’t seen their godfather yet

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

Beaches of normandy.

Nothin sweet when i attend, see

Top of my pile of bodies

Got her going down, no teeth

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

Cuz they all broken, why do ghetto birds die

Of being of always getting wired

I'm not saying i'm going to change the world

Of the book of your life

Ma want me to go find a wife

You can call me cancer but i don't smoke cigarettes

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts